


Carried Home

by PeoniesPlease



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Permanent Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeoniesPlease/pseuds/PeoniesPlease
Summary: Eighteen hundred years after the adventures of Vox Machina, the Voice of the Tempest selects a successor and prepares to embark on her final journey.
Relationships: Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot
Comments: 84
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter One

Keyleth stood tall as she watched the young women approach, a wave of nostalgia pressing on her chest.

Her Council beside her levelled knowing glances between each other, and Keyleth took a deep breath as the young women came close, rising to greet them with a warm smile. 

The shorter of the two stopped before Keyleth with a nervous grin, her dark brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Her brown skin was smooth, and her black long braids were tied in a knot on top of her proud head, revealing her gently pointed ears. Her clothing was simple, a russet colored dress over sandals with a bag of holding at her side. She carried a staff of walnut wood, with a glowing amber-colored crystal clutched in a tangle of roots. Black tattoos swirled around her shoulders, and a slim diamond bracelet sparkled on her left wrist. A belt cinched her waist, accentuating her soft, hourglass figure. She wore light leather armour, embossed with symbols of the Ashari. 

Her companion stopped at her left, and gave Keyleth a respectful nod, glancing back to her friend with a watchful eye. Her skin was pale grey, as were her eyes - she noted her irises, unlike Zahra’s singular glow. Her hair was a bright white, and pulled into a long braided tail with raven feathers woven in, her long pointed ears prominent. Straight, narrow black horns like an arched gracefully from her forehead. At her side was a bright silver rapier, and at her thin throat rested a raven’s skull on a silver chain. Her clothing was simple - a black sleeveless top displaying her thin, sinewy arms over dark pants and thick soled boots. She wore plain leather armour, black bracers and a grey shawl tied over one shoulder. 

Keyleth walked forward and embraced the short woman, squeezing her strong shoulders. She returned her embrace, a small sound of joy escaping her. Keyleth stood back and held her shoulders, taking in her face. A broad smile graced her full lips, her brown eyes scrunching as two dimples pulled in her round cheeks. 

“It is so good to see you Cala,” Keyleth said. 

Cala inclined her head in respect, lifting it to grin at Keyleth.

“It is so good to see you, Tempest - Keyleth,” She corrected with an apologetic smile and a roll of her eyes. 

Keyleth squeezed her shoulders and gave her cheek a playful slap, releasing her shoulders to grasp her staff once more. She looked to the young woman beside her, who watched them with a soft, unreadable expression. 

“And to meet you - I have heard so much. Aniah, yes?” Keyleth asked. 

Aniah nodded, a small smile gracing her narrow face as she briefly met Keyleth’s eyes. 

“Aniah Riador, at your service.”

Keyleth laughed, shaking her head. The girl’s voice was lightly accented and clear - something in the back of Keyleth’s mind itched at her accent, trying to place it. She set it aside for now.

“From the stories I have heard, you have been at service for some time now. Thank you for being there for Cala. It has been a comfort to know she has friends, so far from Zephrah.” 

At that the young woman’s posture relaxed, her straight shoulders easing slightly as she gave Keyleth a soft smile. 

“It has been my pleasure,” Aniah responded quietly. 

Cala rolled her eyes, reaching out and giving Aniah a one armed hug. Aniah sighed and stiffened at her embrace, letting Cala shake her playfully. 

“She’ll loosen up, don’t worry. Come on, you have to meet my folks!” 

Keyleth felt a rush of memories as she watched Cala sway her friend, Aniah giving her a reluctant smile as she leaned into her embrace, her steely eyes gentling. Keyleth gave the girls a wave, and watched as Cala dragged Aniah off to where her parents were waiting behind Keyleth on the Council. 

Keyleth watched with a smile as Cala embraced her parents, her mother cupping her face and squeezing her cheeks as her siblings tugged at her clothes, presenting little stones and other gifts. She noticed Aniah watching with stiff shoulders once more, and Keyleth could see the tension in her now guarded expression. It reminded her of herself and the De Rolo’s - an only child bewildered in a sea of family. 

She turned her head as Isilda walked up beside her, leaning on her own staff. She was the second oldest in the village, at 1,003 to Keyleth’s 1,794. She was a half elf like Keyleth, her ruddy skin drawn tightly over her wiry form, with clever blue eyes that looked out from dark brown locks that flowed loosely down her back. A circlet of bronze wire and enchanted flowers anointed her as the Hand of the Tempest, and she gripped a staff of dark wood topped with a dull green crystal. 

“You need to talk to her while she’s here. We cannot ignore the signs anymore - she does not want us to.” 

Keyleth sighed as she watched Cala druid craft a flower crown for Aniah, chuckling at the contrast of the bright pink flowers against the white of her hair. Aniah gave her a withering expression that told Keyleth this was a regular occurrence as Cala threw her head back and laughed. 

“She is only 19. She will graduate in a year - let her learn a little more. Let her be free for a little longer."

Isilda scowled, shaking her head. 

“She is not learning what she needs to - she needs to begin. She is -” 

Keyleth turned to her right hand, giving her a measured look. 

“She has two semesters left. Then, she begins her Aramente. We have already decided this, as a Council. She has grown so much - she must know the world as well as Zephrah. She must know how to walk between the worlds, as I did. And from the looks of it, she has done well,” Keyleth said, watching as she introduced Aniah to her parents, Cala’s father clapping the stunned young woman on the back in a powerful hug. 

Isilda sighed, leaning into her staff. Keyleth could feel the worry roiling off of her, and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. 

“Be at peace, Isilda. We have guided her well, and her love for Zephrah has only grown in her time in Emon. It will make her stronger - it _has_ made her stronger. I know you all didn’t want to send her away, but I think it has been the best thing for her.” 

Isilda quieted beside Keyleth, watching as the rest of the village slowly came forward as news of Cala’s arrival spread. Keyleth smiled as Aniah leaned down to allow a child to touch her horns as another looked at her sword with wide eyes. Cala tossed one of her cousins in the air, and Keyleth recognized a gust cantrip as she sent the child higher and higher into the air, squealing and giggling. 

“Not long now,” Isilda said quietly. 

Keyleth closed her eyes, remembering. 

Fifteen years ago, a meeting had been called. A child in the village had shown abilities - abilities that far passed what they should be capable of. Keyleth called the Council, and the child was brought forth, her parents holding her hands with nervous expressions. Keyleth had stepped forward, giving the child a comforting smile as she crouched before her. The girl had watched her with huge eyes.

“Hello, my name is Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest.” She had said, crouching before the girl. 

The girl had smiled shyly, leaning into her mother’s leg. 

“I know,” She had responded, sending the council into laughter.

Keyleth had chuckled, gripping her staff for balance as her knees complained.

“You’re very smart. What’s your name?” 

The child stepped away from her mother, a sudden confidence straightening her tiny shoulders.

“Cala.” 

Keyleth cocked her head, still smiling at the girl. 

“That is a wonderful name, Cala. I have heard that you have a very special thing you can do. You see, I can do many things - one thing I can do is turn into animals. Can you do that?” Keyleth asked gently. 

The Council grew quiet behind her. The girl nodded, her dark eyes massive in her round face. A rush of whispers had erupted around her, and Keyleth held a hand out behind her in a command of silence. 

“That’s wonderful. Can you show me?” 

Cala had looked up at her parents, and they gave her encouraging smiles. Cala gave her mother’s leg a few pats, and Keyleth watched as she stepped away, giving Cala some room. The Council grew silent behind her, and Keyleth watched with bated breath. Cala closed her eyes, and suddenly where the child had stood was a massive wolf. 

Keyleth heard gasps behind her, and she stood quickly, her heart pounding. Keyleth looked to Cala’s mother - a dark skinned half elf named Zerah. Her husband, an olive skinned tree elf named Kirthan moved to grip her shoulder. The wolf sat demurely, Cala’s dark eyes watching Keyleth carefully. 

“She is...four years old, correct?” Keyleth asked her mother. 

Zerah nodded, her face torn between pride and anxiety. Kirthan gripped his wife’s shoulders tightly. 

“She is. She first showed this to us a few weeks ago, but since then she has done it...many times. She has also cast a few little spells - things that her mother and I have not shown her.” Kirthan said, his low voice resonant in the Council hall. 

Keyleth had nodded in understanding, kneeling down once more. 

“That is very impressive, Cala. _Very_ impressive.”

From that day, the girl had come under Keyleth’s wing, training with her one, two, eventually five days a week. She was an incredibly fast learner, picking up new forms and spells with uncanny ability. The girl was intelligent and quick on her feet, and loved her family and home fiercely. As the years passed, Keyleth had felt the eyes of the Council on her, watching - waiting. 

There had been others before, that had shown promise. But Keyleth had always turned them away - she had no desire to retire. She could feel the press of the years, but her duties kept them at bay. It was hard to lose herself in memories or misery when there were Whitestone minutes to read, monarchs to meet with, threats to quell. But as the years pressed in and Keyleth began to feel the ache in her bones and soul, it became clear that her time was coming, if not near. 

As she had grown, it became obvious that Cala was born to take the Mantle. Keyleth had even woken to a messenger one morning - a Cleric of Melora, an exhausted human who had been called to speak to the Tempest. Keyleth had heard his message with a straight face, the Council sat beside her with knowing eyes as the Cleric professed that Melora had sent him to herald the coming Tempest. 

She had stormed into her hut that night, slamming the door and pulling a vintage out of the dusty cupboard. She was about halfway through, one hand gripping the bottle and the other pressing on her forehead. Her head had snapped up as she heard the familiar rustle of feathers, and sagged in relief as the Raven swept through the ever-open window, settling in front of her on the table and fixing her with a beady stare. 

She had lifted a hand to his back, petting his glossy feather’s clumsily. 

“Hello, love,” She murmured. 

The Raven had cawed softly, rustingling his feathers in a show of excitement as he nibbled at her fingers that gripped the bottle. 

“I know. I’m fine, I’m - I’m excited. I just...I don’t know. It's...a lot.” She had whispered, the years swimming before her in a tipsy haze.

The Raven had perched on her shoulder, his soft coos comforting as she finished the bottle, her eyes far away. 

Keyleth was thrust back into the sunny summer day as Isilda poked her in the side, a knowing smile on her face. 

“You’re getting old, Keyleth,” 

Keyleth smacked the other woman in the shoulder, smirking as she rubbed at the spot with a knowing smirk. 

“I’ve been old, Isilda. I was old when your mother was born,” She said, glancing back at her friend. 

Isilda gave her an understanding glance, sighing as she watched Cala greet her grandmother. 

“She will bear the Mantle Isi, I know it. Just give her a little more time. I am not dying tomorrow.” 

“No, but we do not know when -” 

Keyleth raised her hand, quieting Isilda. 

“I have a feeling we will know when my thread draws close,” She said, smiling as a caw rent through the air.

Keyleth felt a wide smile pull at her face as the Raven alighted on her staff, cawing once more towards Cala. Keyleth watched curiously as Aniah looked at the Raven with a stunned expression, her pale hand tapping Cala’s shoulder rapidly. Cala turned, setting down a toddler. Keyleth watched as Cala grinned and started forward, pulling Aniah behind her once more as she walked back to Keyleth. 

The Raven honked excitedly and ruffled its feathers as Cala came close, holding her arm aloft. He flew to her arm, tossing a loose braid that had fallen from her knot. Keyleth watched as Aniah looked at the Raven with a stunned expression, her mouth open slightly. Cala looked back to Aniah with a grin, stroking the Raven’s feathers. 

“Aniah, this is the Raven - I’ve -” 

Aniah interrupted, closing her mouth and blinking quickly as she nodded. 

“Told me about him, yes. I…” Aniah trailed off, stilling as the Raven turned its gaze to her, raising its head. 

Keyleth watched as silence fell, Aniah and the Raven regarding each other.

“Aniah, you serve the Matron, yes?” Keyleth asked quietly. 

Aniah shook herself a bit, and Keyleth didn’t miss Cala’s wry, knowing smile as she watched Aniah’s face. 

“Well, you have something in common then,” Keyleth said softly, watching as Aniah’s expression grew awed.

Cala glanced at Keyleth and lowered her arm quickly. Aniah raised her own arm, and the Raven alighted on her leather bracer. Keyleth noticed a dark wooden wand secured with straps onto the inside of the gauntlet of her right arm. She remembered from a letter that Aniah was a Wizard as well as a Cleric - though the combination didn’t seem to make sense to Keyleth. The Wizards she had known were not overly fond of the gods, nor Clerics of the arcane. 

The Raven held Aniah’s gaze for another long moment. Keyleth watched with amusement as he leaned back and plucked a long, perfect feather from his wing. He held it in his beak before hopping down Aniah’s arm and tucking it deftly behind her ear, leaping into the sky once more, disappearing into the bright warm blue day. 

Aniah stood still, reaching up a shaking hand to touch the feather. She turned to Cala, who casually shrugged her shoulders, a wry twinkle in her eyes.

“He likes you,” She said simply. 

Keyleth smiled at the girl, glancing back to Cala’s family. 

“Come on girls - there’s a feast to celebrate your stay here. Won’t do to keep it waiting,” Keyleth said, turning away and leading the young women to the center of the village where a roaring fire was beginning to blaze cheerfully. 

After a moment she heard them follow, and she smiled as she heard Cala whisper to Aniah.

“See, I _told you_ the Champion would like you,” 


	2. Chapter Two

She woke to the sound of birdsong, as she had woken for hundreds of years. 

She sighed deeply as her body woke, slight aches and pains greeting her. She sat up, stretching her wiry limbs, bare feet cold in the chill-bitten air. She tugged a heavy robe over her head and rubbed at her eyes, padding into the kitchen. She snapped a blaze into the waiting stove, and a weary smile tugged at her lips as the sharp caw of the Raven rang through the trees.

She turned to unlatch the window, chuckling as the raven swooped confidently through the narrow gap and alighted on her outstretched arm, talons gentle. The Raven dipped its head before her, and she pressed her forehead to it, breathing in the wild scent of his feathers, musky and warm despite the chill. 

“Good morning love,” She murmured into the silence, her voice crackling along with the fire. 

The Raven cooed, rubbing soft feathers across the deep lines at the corners of her eyes, down her bony cheek. The Raven hopped off her arm, alighting on her shoulder. She wandered over to the phonograph, opening the device and setting the needle back. She turns the knob, and her small home fills with a low, lilting melody, a flute playing sweetly over the sonorous bass as gentle drums begin. The world had changed in ways that were hard to grasp, but the fact that she could hear Scanlan’s music whenever she wanted to was...nice. 

She sways slightly to the music as she picks up her kettle, flaming hands boiling the water quickly. She quickly prepared a strong cup of coffee, ladling in a spoonful of honey and a splash of cream. She sits in her chair beside the open window, drinking deeply from the steaming mug as the chilly breeze plays with her hair. The Raven settles against her neck, nuzzling into the loose waves of white.

“You know, I think I’m going to miss this,” She said, the Raven cooing in response. 

She gave him a scritch, watching a few defiant auburn leaves being tugged by the brisk wind in the trees before her. The coffee slowly warmed her chest, the sweet taste filling her mouth as the darkness ebbs to the bright morning sun. 

“I’m leaving for Whitestone soon - I really am,” She said steadily, rolling her eyes at the squawk the Raven gave her.

She has come to know him in this form for far longer than the former, and she can recognize sarcasm when she hears it. She gives him a gentle flick with her fingers, chuckling at his indignant ruffle. 

“Cala has one trial left for her Aramente, and if I go before she passes it, Idrina can lead until she succeeds. Besides, all she has to do is steal from a kraken - how bad can it be?” She says with a grin, the Raven tossing his head. 

“Oh hush, we changed that a long time ago, you know that. She has plenty of help.” She says with a smile, thinking of the young druid - the wolf in child-skin. 

Keyleth remembered the morning, bright and warm, that Cala had brought them to Zephrah at last. 

Keyleth stood tall as the rest of her party stepped through and gathered behind Cala, and she felt a dull ache of longing in her chest as she looked between their bright faces. She and Cala met them shortly after graduation, all of them hired to hunt the same beast in Emon's sewers by different contractors. They found themselves a better team than alone, and now they tore across the world the same way Vox Machina once had. 

Six of them, eyes squinting into the sun as it rose behind her.

Cala, her hair pulled into long braids and piled atop her proud head, her dark brown eyes upon Keyleth’s, a staff gripped in her hand. A tall sun elf beside her, a sword at her side and a fond smile on her face as she looked at Cala, long golden hair and bronze skin glinting in the sun. A smirking gnome, guns sparkling in the light at their side and back, leaning against a massive orc, a longsword and battleaxe at his back as he places a hand to his shoulder, where a sleepy eyed boa constrictor is wrapped around his thick neck. A handsome brunette human with a guitar strung across his back and a twinkle in his eye stands to the side, looking behind him, to Aniah, her loose hair full of feathers and a wry smile on her face. 

Keyleth had given her best smile, straightening her spine as she looked from face to face. 

“I have heard many things about you all. It is good to meet you. I am Keyleth, the Voice of the Tempest and leader of the Air Ashari. But you all know that already,” She says, smiling as Cala blushes, squeezing the elf’s hand tightly before gripping her staff. 

“It is good to see you again, Tempest,” Cala said, her measured voice tight with emotion. 

Keyleth had shaken her head, walking forward to embrace the young woman. Cala meleted in her arms, and Keyleth smiled as the girl hugged her tightly. Keyleth glanced over to Aniah, whose grey eyes were searching the sky. The human beside her watched Aniah a soft gaze that Keyleth recognized. She pulled away to place her hands on Cala's shoulders, smiling as the Sun Elf walked forward to stand beside Cala, her bright eyes proud. 

Five years ago, now. 

Now, Cala had one trial left, to be attempted in two months.

She had come to Keyleth’s door after dinner, the rest of her party camped in the village after a feast to celebrate their arrival. Keyleth smiled at the thinly veiled fear that danced behind the young druid’s wise eyes as she gripped the teacup across from her. Keyleth placed her wrinkled hands atop Cala’s, giving the girl an encouraging grin, the leaves of the mantle rustling as she leaned forward. 

“You may be more ready than I was, Cala,” She said softly, watching her shoulders loosen. 

“One task lays before you, but you are not alone. And it is not as it was - your trial will not be as...dangerous, as mine and my mother’s. I have all confidence in you,” She said, squeezing the young woman’s hands in her own. 

Cala nodded, a braid falling into her round face. Silence passed for a moment before she met Keyleth’s eyes again, a strange look in her eyes. 

“Tempest?” She asked. Keyleth shook her head, patting Cala’s hands. 

“Keyleth, Cala. We are almost equals after all,” She said with a wink, Vex’s memory sparking in her mind. 

Cala chuckled nervously, brushing a loose braid behind her ear. 

“You have...been such a good teacher. To me and so many others.You have given me advice before, on so many things but…” Cala trails off eyes wandering for a moment, frustrated. She gathered her thoughts and continued, her voice soft. 

“If I complete this - when I complete this - will you...stay?” She whispered. 

Keyleth felt her throat tighten, stiffening herself against a shiver. 

“I am almost eighteen hundred years old, Cala. I have served as the Tempest for almost all of those years and I am…” She trailed off, a sad smile twisting her mouth. 

She chuckled as a caw sounded in the distance - the Raven had not visited yet today. 

He still visited every day. 

“I love my people more than I can possibly express. But I am tired, Cala. You know my story - everyone knows my damn story,” She says, earning a laugh from Cala. 

“You have someone now - Eladriel, was it?” She asks, her heart aching as Cala smiles bashfully. 

She feels a gust of air behind her, and she removes a hand from Cala’s to stroke the massive Raven now perched on her shoulder. 

“I have seen kingdoms and empires rise and fall. I have buried friends, and family and - “ The Raven caws loudly, and Keyleth chuckles as Cala jumps in surprise. 

Keyleth tapped the Raven’s beak playfully, grinning as he hops onto the table, cocking his head at Cala. 

“And this little shit,” She said fondly, stroking a feather as he regarded Cala. 

“It's a good thing you found an elf, hopefully you’ll get more time.” She said softly, smiling as Cala gives her hand a squeeze before holding her arm aloft, taking a sharp breath as the Raven alights on her arm, regarding Cala with piercing eyes. Cala reaches over and drags a finger lightly down the massive bird's wing, smiling as she Raven tosses its head and hops on her shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Champion.” Cala says, wincing as the bird playfully pecks at her head. 

Keyleth watched curiously as the Raven stared at Cala, bobbing his head. Cala stilled and sighed, setting down her teacup. 

“Keyleth, I...need to tell you something.” Cala said softly. 

Keyleth watched as the Raven huffed its feather’s, satisfied. 

“I saw him. The Champion.” Cala whispered, her eyes lowered. 

Keyleth felt her chest grow tight, and she set down her cup as well. The Raven hopped to her shoulder once more, and she raised a hand to him without thought. 

“What happened, Cala.” Keyleth asked evenly, keeping her voice calm. 

Cala took a deep breath, glancing at the Raven and lifting her head. 

“It was a few months ago, during the fire trial. We made it out but Ben - our Bard, he didn’t make it. We shifted to a safe plane but we were tapped and...we transported back the next day and raised him at the Temple of the Raven Queen, in Vasselheim,” She said quietly, looking away as Keyleth takes a sharp breath. 

“Why wasn’t I told?” She said harshly, wincing internally as she did. 

She bit her lip, squeezing Cala’s hands in apology. Cala knew her mentor well, and smiled as she shook her head. 

“You were in Whitestone, for the baby,” Cala responded gently, and Keyleth felt her head fall forward in frustration. Vex and Percy’s great-great-great-great…? 

Granddaughter. She was visiting for the new baby's birth, to help Ves’siah’s labor. Little Veth, named after the hero. 

She was the first new baby in Whitestone for five years, pink scrunched face nuzzled against Keyleth’s thin shoulder as she held her in the night, walking through the courtyard to the small temple that had been built at Whitestone so long ago. She rocked the child in her arm as she turned in the white marble antechamber. His cry had greeted her, and she grinned at the Raven as it lowered its head to the child, Veth watching with wide eyes. A ritual.

She could remember them all if she focused, but the family trees were vast. Some of their children and grandchildren had married elves, humans, even a gnome or two, some lives longer and shorter than others. And then there was the Shorthalts and the Trickfoots and all of their kin. As the years had passed and her circle had grown, Keyleth found herself writing and sending letters and arcane messages daily. 

Her status and responsibilities had only grown as the centuries had pressed on, and the strange changes the world had brought. She parried messages from rulers and relatives and descendants alike. Her personal favorite was when the lines blurred, and she would receive the official minutes of the most recent Whitestone Council along with a stack of finger paintings for ‘Aunt Tree’, as Vesper had called her.

“It happened so fast. And we didn’t want to bother you, not for that. We cast it at Raven’s Crest, and she held him out on a string - it was just like you said,” Cala said quickly, giving Keyleth an awed look. 

Keyleth closed her eyes as endless blue stretches around her once more, Vax’s skin cold and wet against her as she held his limp body to hers. The first time she saw Her face, felt the icy roil of power from Her form. 

“But before She did I saw a...I saw him. He looked just like the paintings, the ones you have, the real ones. She backed away and he came forward. He looked at Aniah for a moment and smiled and then, he looked at me,” She whispered, casting her eyes down. 

The Raven gives her a nuzzle before hopping to Keyleth’s shoulder, and she presses a hand to his side, fingers trembling slightly. Cala smiles, shaking her head. 

“He looked at me and...he was so sad, Keyleth. So happy and so…” She trails off, squeezing Keyleth’s hand. 

“He gave me a smile, and a little bow? Then everything vanished, and Ben was breathing.” She finishes. 

Keyleth takes a deep breath, a weak smile pulling at her lips as the Raven trills softly in her ear. She gives him a few scratches as she takes a sip of her tea. 

Cold. 

“You have known him since you were a little girl - when we started to think you might be my successor. He stole for you, little scamp,” She says with a playful pat on the Raven’s back, tapping the diamond bracelet at Cala’s wrist. 

Cala smiles warmly, shaking her head. 

“Yes but...I’ve never seen him. As a...person. Sorry, that sounds awful - I just - we never say his name.” 

She said in a rush, and Keyleth saw a little of the nervous woman she had once been as Cala trailed off awkwardly. Keyleth laughed weakly as the Raven cawed, patting Cala’s hand. 

“It's okay, Cala. You’re right. He is...a bit of an open secret. I don’t know why I don’t call him by...I suppose it is a habit. A very, very old habit.” 

The Raven nuzzles her side once more, cooing softly and gesturing towards the window with his head. She gives him a scratch, and he coos once more before hopping off her shoulder and out the window, disappearing into the night. She watches him go, feeling the moonlight play across her face. 

“These are things I have not spoken of in...decades at least. After he left, people gave me time. Room. They thought - she is young. She’ll meet someone. But I didn’t want to. I was done. I had my love, and it was taken. Then, after almost a year, the Raven came. It just sat and stared for a moment. I thought it was just a sign - he said he would always be close but I didn’t think...eventually it began to interact more. Get closer, talk at me. I started to wake up to find feathers on my pillow, but after a few months I received my first gift - a little silver bear on a chain. A Trinket,” She said, looking back to Cala with a smile. 

“Then...fucking Scanlan Shorthalt. I saw him. I held him. And I asked at last and he looked sheepish. He had the nerve to look embarrassed, the bastard. I thought so often of what I would want to tell him - and I did. I made him a promise, even if he didn’t want it. I never wanted anyone else - how could I? As the centuries passed and the Raven remained, people began to suspect. But who would say such a thing to the Voice of the Tempest? Who would have the courage to ask her of her heart?” She says quietly, watching as Cala’s eyes fill with tears, her strong hands gripping Keyleth’s. 

“You will bear this, Cala. The pain does not end, it just gets passed on. And someday, when you are done, it will be your time, your turn. And you will speak to a bright eyed young thing. You say that you are ready to wear the Mantle,” She says, reaching out to wipe a tear from Cala’s eyes with a gentle smile. 

“I am ready to surrender it. I learned how to live with it all. I have kept myself so busy, so wrapped up in the pain and problems and lives of others that I was able to put my grief away. I have done my duty. I have served my people and led them, protected them. I have watched over the children of Vox Machina. And now, I am ready to rest. When I saw your friends today, my heart ached. Because I saw in you all what I once had. I miss them all, Cala. Not just him. And now that I’m slowing down, it’s all catching up with me. I have seen so many grow old, I can recognize it in myself. I look to the past, more than I ever have. My mind…” She trails off, Cala’s tight grip bringing her back. 

Cala’s face is open, and she leans forward to wrap both of her hands around Keyleth’s. She lets the warmth ground her, fighting the memories - Percy’s bony shoulder under her head, leaning into him as her body grew loose, the constant tension ebbed with alcohol. Vax looking at her across the table, face open and lovestruck as he watched her drunkenly sing along to Scanlan’s terrible drinking songs, Vex counting their loot for the day as Pike and Grog raised hell. 

“You have...you’ve never told me these things. You...you’ve always been so strong. So powerful,” She says quietly. 

Keyleth shrugged, the Mantle rustling as she sighed.

“You deserve to know the truth. You will bear this, as I have. You are a grown woman and…” Keyleth smiled, remembering a breathless girl chasing her through the forest, shifting from form to form in the trees.

“I am ready. I have begun...sorting my affairs, I suppose. There will be documents for you all of course. But I am going to start visiting people, while I can. I am still strong, but I get tired faster than I used to.” She says quietly, looking back to Cala. 

“So, long story short - I don’t know when I will leave this world, Cala. But I know it will be soon. I do not have another century in me, and honestly, I don’t know if I have another year.”

Cala drew a harsh breath, gripping Keyleth’s liver spotted hands. 

“You have been so honest with me. I can’t...you’ve done so much for our people, for Exandria. I can’t ask you to stay, it would be selfish. Just know that I will miss you deeply, as will so many others,” She says breathlessly, tears flowing freely. 

“No one is ever ready. But you are wise, and strong. You are as ready as you can be. And I am not leaving now, nor am I leaving tomorrow. I _will_ pass this Mantle to you, Cala.” She says, pushing past the tightness in her throat. 

Cala nods quickly, her eyes searching Keyleth’s face. Quiet returned to the home as Cala sniffled, patting Keyleth’s hands before rising and wiping her nose on her sleeve. She gives Keyleth a small bow, inclining her head. 

“Thank you, Keyleth. For telling me. For...everything.” 

Keyleth gives her a wide smile and rises, embracing the young druid and resting her chin atop her head. She pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as Cala wrapped her arms around her thin waist.

“I will see you again Cala, and I will tell you anything you ask. My time is soon, but it is not now.” Cala nodded against her chest, taking a deep breath and leaning back. 

Keyleth released her, opening the door. The cool air rustled the Mantle, and Keyleth saw Cala give it a brief glance. 

“Get some rest, Cala. I leave for Whitestone tomorrow morning, but you know how to reach me,” She says softly, giving Cala one last warm smile as she inclines her head toward Keyleth once more before leaving. 

Keyleth closes the door, pressing her forehead into the cold wood and heaving a ragged sigh, letting a choked sob escape her as she leaned against it. 

“Not long,” She whispered to herself, the Mantle heavy across her shoulders.

“Not long,” She said, forcing herself up. 

She padded slowly to her bed, swinging off the Mantle and resting it upon the form she has rested it upon for centuries, the metal gleaming. Percy had made it for her, after Vecna, after it all.

She will never forget when she stepped back into their home. Finding Grog had been a welcome distraction, but she could only run for so long. She had kissed them all goodbye, walking to her hut in the dawn. She had pushed the door open, hinges creaking. The dust rose in puffs that caught the golden sunlight, and she had stood in silence and watched, holding her breath. Their shared life was still scattered about - the plates they used for breakfast, a paring knife that he liked to cut tomatoes with. She had finally forced herself forward after a few minutes, the spell breaking as she took a deep breath. 

Her friends and family had helped her fill her home with her new life. Children's paintings had been tacked to the walls. Gifts from dignitaries and rulers, souvenirs of far off places. Over time it became less of 'theirs' and more 'hers', new memories filling the small dwelling as the years pressed on. 

Ehoes of those times still remained, scattered through the small home. Anything of monetary or magical value has already been promised away between Cala, the De Rolos and the Shorthalts amongst all the others. She only wondered about the little things, the things that were special to her and her alone. Perhaps they would be special to others, as a possession of the legendary Voice of the Tempest. But to Keyleth? The ragged blue feathers in the magical wooden box? The brass button from a long rotted coat? A tarnished flute made for small, clever hands? A piece of golden armour, wrapped in rough cloth? 

She shook in the cold air, removing her headdress and holding it in her hands.

“How many more times will I wear this?” She murmured, turning the circlet in her hands. 

She set it atop the mannequin and ran her fingers across the antlers - unable to remember a time before the press of the circlent upon her brow, the weight of the Mantle whispering behind her. 

She lies down, curling into the cold sheets with a ragged sigh. She closes her eyes, trying to remember the feel of a warm, lithe body beside her own, of clever, knowing eyes that saw her as she was, as she had not been seen in so long. 

_‘Keyleth of the Air Ashari, I love you,’_

“Not long,” She whispers to herself, falling into an exhausted sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheat sheet for my kiddos!
> 
> Cala, level 15 Druid. Dark skinned, dark haired with box braids and deep brown eyes. Muscular and short, 5'4. Happily in love with Eladriel.
> 
> Aniah, level 5 Wizard, level 10 Cleric. Pale grey skin, long white hair, grey eyes. Narrow straight black horns close to the forehead, widows peak. Wiry and thin, 5'10. Grudgingly in love with Ben. 
> 
> Ben, level 15 Bard. Olive skin, dark long brown hair usually in a bun. Scruff that occasionally grows into a short beard. VERY HANDSOME, think like Hozier + Aragorn. Just...heartbreakingly attractive. Lean, 6'2. Blood brother with Gruthok. Uses an acoustic guitar as his main instrument, slung across his back. Stupidly in love with Aniah. 
> 
> Eladriel, (Elly) Level 15 Ranger. Gleaming bronze skin, bright blonde hair, amber eyes. Pure blood Sun Elf, exiled rich kid. JOCK. Ready to throw down @ all times. Unnaturally beautiful, to the point where she will wear a hood or disguise herself to avoid eyes. Animal companion is a mountain lion named Freytha she raised from a cub. Worships the ground Cala walks on, drinks I Love My Girlfreind Juice at all times. 
> 
> Gruthak, Level 15 Fighter. Full blood Orc. Grew up on the streets with Ben, VERY PROTECTIVE. Big sweetheart. 7'5, big as shit. Has a pet python named Susan who he rescued from a circus. She will fuck your shit right up. 
> 
> Terrence, Level 7 Rouge, Level 8 Gunslinger. 4'2, tall for a gnome as he likes to remind them all frequently. Often abrasive, but with a great sense of humor. Best buds with Gruthak - who he makes carry some of his giant sniper rifles. Highest intelligence right under Aniah.


	3. Chapter Three

Vax'ildan kicked his legs in the cool water as he leaned into his sister’s side. 

The sun warmed them on the banks of the slow river, and he took a deep breath, trying to soothe his mind. Trinket slept peacefully at his back, the bear’s massive form warm and soft. Percy is a little ways down, his even voice softly explaining something to Vesper and the twins. The afternoon sun cut through lazy white clouds as they made their way across the fields. He could see a spring storm on the horizon, the rain sweet smelling in the air. 

He felt Vex looking at him, cracking an eye open. She was as young and beautiful here as she was when he left, even if there was a bit of sadness around her eyes that he has not been able to fully ease in her time here. She lost so much - first him, then Percy, and even her own children. She had been here, in the warm embrace of Elysium, for over a thousand years. Everyone they had ever loved surrounded her now, brother and husband and children and grandchildren all within the reach of her lean arms. 

Save for one. 

Her absence was a dull blade now, but one always present. The antlers still curved from his shoulder, his daily visits were a bittersweet balm. As the years had brought his family back to him, he had gained bits and pieces of his humanity back. Time flowed a little easier now, and there was love and warm hands and concerned faces to hold him steady in his strange existence. 

But there was still a hollow, an emptiness that pressed at the back of his eyes when he closed them. He was still in-between - not truly dead, not truly living. The comfort of Elysium was only temporary for him - there was always another task, another battle, another duty for the Champion to complete.

He had hoped that she would move on, have children, a family. The idea had given him some comfort, at the beginning. There was so much love in her heart, so much ferocious affection. He had indulged dreams of watching her red-haired children climb in the same trees she once had, as she walked hand in hand with someone who could be there to wipe her tears and earn her smile.

But Scanlan Shorthalt had shattered that, on a cool cliff as the sun set behind his glowing sister. 

She committed herself to him, to the grind of years and years alone at the behest of their respective masters. Her bright green eyes had sparked his soul once more, and he saw the cold truth in her gaze, the resolve as she chained herself to a ghost. It was cruel comfort that she felt the same hollow - he would have given anything to spare her of it. 

His sister poked his arm, her keen eyes pressing into him. She fixed with a searching gaze that could find the softest footprint, hear the whisper of the wind, the muffled footfalls of her brother behind her, always near. He wondered what she saw as her expression grew soft, old pain resurfacing in the eyes they shared. 

“What is it brother?” She asks, her voice far kinder than it had been in life. 

He gives her a tight smile, his arm rubbing at the antlers that sprout from his strange flesh. He glanced back to his family, searching for peace in their presence. 

Vesper, Julia and Juilius sat around their father, their faces peaceful as their father explained...something. Vax knew that Vesper’s husband was just down the way, and Julia’s wife lay in the grass across the creek with a book. Grog held a Shorthalt over his massive shoulders, tossing them squealing with delight into the water. A few miles west he could find more of them, in the replica of Whitestone castle that Percy had built. De Rolos that had been only stories were now friends - Percy had gotten his wry sense of humor from his father, but his mother - she was a  _ spitfire.  _

He often took a moment to consider the...bizarreness of it all. He had been so alone for so long, and now his family surrounded him. 

The press of Vex’s warm fingers on his hand brought him back. He sighed at her touch - even after so long, his sister’s presence soothed the hollow, even if only for a while. 

“How is she?” Vex asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, rubbing a hand along his jaw. Keyleth was behind his eyes, always - her lined, thin face, looking at him as he perched on the table. A half empty bottle of an Emon vintage, mouth darkened with wine. Hands that had once held his so tightly, that could command the very skies to bend before her will, grown knobbed and spotted. Long white hair, wispy in the breeze. Her eyes were unchanged at least - their bright green still greeted him keenly each day, her thinned lips smiling to see him, a bony hand raised in greeting. 

“Tired. Old.” He says, laughing as Vex elbowed him in the side. 

“I don’t think she would argue with me, but I still think it's rude to call a lady old,” Vex says, and Vax shakes his head. 

“She wouldn’t argue. I think it's cute - as shy as she once was now, she's a grumpy old woman. But still...it breaks my heart, Vex, just like it broke my heart to watch you all grow old. But she is...ancient. She is older than J’mon sa Ord was when we met him. We have been waiting for her for so long. But now….I don’t know. I hate it.” He trailed off, words drying like dust in his mouth. 

Vex reached around and squeezed his middle. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he reached up to hold her, breathing in her scent. He remembers nuzzling into Keyleth’s hair, the white all around him, the forest-pine-coffee smell of her. 

“I don’t think she has long. And I’ve...I thought that before but she always surprises me. But Cala has almost completed her Aramente,” Vex eyes widen as he speaks, a spark of excitement in her eyes. 

“Really?” She says breathlessly, gripping his arm almost painfully.

He gave a tight smile, squeezing her hands in his. Vex pressed a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes as she took a few shaking breaths. She looked across to where Scanlan had appeared, walking hand in hand with Pike, their arms swinging as she laughed at something he said. She watched as they walked, gratitude written on her beautiful face. 

“I know. I hated to leave her. I was so grateful for Scanlan - at least he would be there, for a while longer. I wanted to see you all desperately but...there is no one that knows Keyleth anymore. Not like we did. We’re bloody legends - that’s all she gets to be.” Vex said softly, old grief on her face. 

Vax held her a bit tighter, running his thumb over her palm. 

“She isn’t totally alone, sister. She is starting to travel, to visit those she has left. She will head to Whitestone soon,” 

Vex perked up as he said that, and he smiled to see the love she still held for it. She listened eagerly, still hungry for news of her home. 

“Ves’siah is doing well, and Veth - the baby is two months old now, chubby and happy. Her husband is an elf, so this one is three quarters. The city shines and grows - the airfields are being expanded, and the road system is going to get another upgrade soon. Joni still leads the hunt, and Ves’salia is so like you that is unnerving at times,”

Vex smiles as he tells her of the current De Rolo’s, her eyes distant. She had spent most of her life in Whitestone, raised her children and grandchildren there. Vax couldn’t imagine what it was like to have such an attachment to a place, to build such a sprawling and powerful legacy. Then again, he thought of the year spent beside Keyleth, under the broad trunked green trees. But if he was being honest, it was probably more Keyleth and less Zephrarh. 

“And Cala is - she is incredible. Her team is a mess, but powerful. They remind me so much of Vox Machina - hopefully they don’t get anyone killed again,”

He murmurs, feeling a tug deep in his mind. 

“Champion,” She whispers, her cool voice as familiar as his own.

“I require you.”

Vex notices, her eyebrows drawing up as she watches him. She knows now, when She speaks to him. She leans against Trinket, the sleeping bear huffing as Vax rises. 

“Gone?” She asks, her expression wistful.

Even after all this time, she still hates to see him go. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek, Vex closing her eyes and sighing. He shrugs his boots back on, glancing down the river to see Grog tossing - Ves’salia...the First? His...third great niece. His sister and brother in law had taken building their legacy very seriously. There were _ so many _ De Rolos now - he had a chart somewhere. 

“Not for long,” He says, and she sighs, pressing her face into Trinket's fur as he disappeared in a cloud of feathers, appearing in a long, dark hallway.

He walks silently to her throne, Her seated form greeting him. She leaves her throne, walking toward him slowly. He stands still, watching curiously as she lifts her mask, her bright red eyes looking upon him with an unreadable expression. She stands before him for a moment, eye to eye.

“Vax’ildan,” She says, her words swirling about them in the vast chamber. 

He inclines his head, her eyes locked upon his. She searches his face for a few moments, her expression unreadable. The silence stretches like a bow before -

“The thread of the Tempest draws near,” She says softly, her crimson eyes gentle. 

Vax felt the world shift, as he had not felt in decades. He had suspected it, but to hear it from the Matron shakes him to his bones. A thrill races up his spine as he forces himself to remain calm, the Matron watching him closely. 

“I have realized this,” He whispers, desperate to read her face. 

She turns from him, climbing the steps silently and settling upon her throne. He searches her face, and stills as he realizes - she is  _ sad.  _

“You wish to join her, when she passes,” She says, her voice echoing dully in the chamber. 

“You know that I do. My soul...I cannot rest until I rest with her. She is my home,” He whispers, trying to ignore the spike of guilt that comes with his words.

He has served his Queen for almost as long as Keyleth has led her people, he realizes. 

“You are my Queen, and you saved my life and the lives of those I love. I have served you without complaint or regret.But I have waited patiently. As has she.” He says, watching as She listens, hands gripping her throne. 

“I know, my Champion. You have served me well. And that is why I have summoned you,” She says, standing once more and rising, pacing slowly before her onyx throne.

“I cannot say when she will pass. But she does not have long. You have served me faithfully, and I know you desire rest -” She says, leveling a glance towards him.

“And you deserve it. But there is…” She trailed off, glancing back at him. 

Her bright eyes were still piercing even after so long in her service. He felt a shock of anxiety, his brow furrowing as he listened closely. 

“I must have a Champion, Vax’ildan. I cannot release you fully until there is another.” She says, and he feels what is left of his heart clench.

“What?” He rasped, the image of Keyleth’s wrinkled face and sorrowful eyes vivid in his mind. 

The Matron stilled and looked to the polished onyx floor before raising her face to his. Her eyes were sad, but determined, her mouth set in a hard line. She walked smoothly to stand before him. 

“There was a time before you - after Purvon. Without a hand to carry out my will the world grew foul with the stench of undeath. With you as my Champion we have worked to eliminate threats before they rise, as well as lift my name and presence among Exandria. I cannot let the world lapse into chaos again. Even now there are threats that work against me, against us. But there is one who could take the charge. One who shows promise. One who may have the strength to see my Will done, and reason to take my offer. One who I did not expect,” She said softly.

Vax shook his head, his voice choked in his chest. 

“One who you have met,” She says, reaching to place a hand upon his brow. 

An image flashes before him, a grey skinned tiefling with bright grey eyes, bloodstained hands gripping a mangled human, her frenzied prayers cutting through the planes. Their pleas were familiar, and he remembered the call of his Mistress, the way he flew, the boy’s soul heavy in his arms. He reminded him of Scanlan, with his dark hair and handsome features. The fact that the boy was a Bard had not surprised him - their souls were often the heaviest.

The sight was so familiar - a battered group of adventures, a body held in the strong arms of a young woman. He had heard - Cala, her voice familiar as he stepped forward, soul aching in memory at the burned and singed faces and clothes of her party. The caster - the Cleric - had watched him with wide eyes, her mouth agape as he gave her his best roguish smile, looking on Cala with new eyes. 

She was and was not like Keyleth. Her skin was dark, eyes and hair a deep brown. Where Keyleth was lanky and thin, Cara was muscular and short. She had a round face with full cheeks and a bright smile, and her large eyes held as much wisdom as Keyleth’s. She was more confident than Keyleth had been, more sure in herself, yet he could sense the doubt and fear that she carried in her straight shoulders. But she was strong, with a level head and a quick mind.

He turned his thoughts from Cala to the other, the tiefling, her grey skin splattered with viscera as she whispered devotions and pleas, calling his Queen to her aid. He felt a shock of recognition, remembering the clear day that Cala first brought Aniah to visit for summer in Zephrah. Her bright eyes had burned as they looked upon him, recognition plain on her stunned face.

“Champion,” She had whispered, her voice ragged with misery as she held the body, white hair matted with blood. 

He brought himself back, his Queen looking on him with a bemused expression. 

“The tiefling?” He said simply, watching as the Queen nodded, her face once again unreadable. 

“Aniah Riador Theyless. She has served for many years, and proven herself worthy. I will reach out to her, but perhaps this is a better task for you and your Tempest, Champion.” She says lowly, a ghost of a smile on her face. 

“Keyleth? She has nothing to do with this,” He says quickly. 

The Queen lowers her mask, settling on her throne once more. 

“She is powerful. She could be useful in this task, and she has reason.” Vax shakes his head, frustration flaring.

“What do you mean? Keyleth is...she is close to the end. She has done her duty, she has nothing more to do but say her goodbyes and - “ The Queen interrupts him with a raised hand. 

“And when she passes through, when she is amongst the dead, you cannot join her fully.” She says quietly. 

Vax stood still, his heart hammering in his ears, the phantom blood hot and pounding. For eighteen hundred years he had longed for her, felt the sorrow in her voice as she spoke to him in his feathered form, and had longed to wrap her in his arms, safe, beloved, at peace. It still broke his heart every time he left, watching her standing alone by the window as he has watched her, for - 

“I have served you, my Queen, for - “ He begins, fighting to keep his voice calm as his soul tries to scream.

She stands once more, her form expanding and towering over him. She caresses his face with a massive hand, her cool touch still so alien. 

“You have. And I have treasured it. But there must be another. I must have a Champion, Vax’ildan. As there must be a Tempest. I do not do this to hurt you - but there are greater forces at work. We must secure our future before we can lay the past to rest.” She whispers, releasing him. 

“Go, and find her. Speak with her as you see fit. She knows you, and I am sure she will listen. I will speak to the Tempest,” She says, and he fails to hold in a hysterical laugh, leaning forward.

His Queen cocks her head in a silent question, and he takes a deep breath to quiet himself. 

“I wish I could see that, my Queen,” He manages to say, watching as a ghost of amusement plays across her featureless mask. 

“I like her, even if she does not share the sentiment. I do respect her - perhaps too much,” She muses, leaning back into her throne. 

Vax shakes his head, looking to the far ceiling. Keyleth had never cared for the gods, but she had warmed up to them over the years. He was sure that her relationship with the Matron was still...complicated.

“So basically we have to find you a new Champion, as soon as possible, so that I can be with Keyleth,” The Queen rolls her shoulders.

“You do not have to. You can see her as you see your family and friends now. But I will always call upon you, as I do now. There is work that must be done, and someone must do it. I say this as a favor, my Vax’ildan.” She says, not unkindly. 

Vax sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He was tired, as much as he hated to admit it. And Keyleth was - she was  _ exhausted _ . She had been carrying so much for so long, her narrow shoulders heavy with the weight of her people, of her responsibilities, of her grief. His mind wandered to the newest De Rolo, so soft in Keyleth’s arms. 

She had buried so many babies, turned old and grey and gone. She deserved rest, rest unburdened by a lover that never stopped leaving, in life and in death. And as he searched his soul, he longed for nothing more than to lie down with her in his arms, to breathe in her scent, her wild, weary, wise soul raw and safe in his embrace at last. To rest, and heal, whole and himself again. 

He looks back to his Queen, her masked face stoic in the pressing darkness. He smiles, twirling a dagger at his side, tossing it in the air and catching it in a familiar game.

“One last adventure,” He murmurs to himself, disappearing from before her throne in a flash of iridescent feathers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PERSPECTIVE SHIFT :D
> 
> Welcome to Elysium. The tide begins to turn more quickly, and decisions must be made. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos always deeply appreciated.


	4. Chapter Four

She opened her eyes, taking a deep, slow breath. 

She heard a soft caw, smirking as the Raven came into view, nuzzling her neck. She reaches up to place her bony hand to the Raven’s wing, sighing as her body wakes, the dull ache greeting her more harshly than before. The Raven presses closer, almost as if he can sense it. She turns her head and sighs at the golden light filtering through her window.

“I slept in,” She murmurs, rising with a wince to her feet. 

The Raven hops to her shoulder, and she hurries through her routine, before finding herself standing before her door, haversack in hand. She stops for a moment, taking a look around her home. 

Two months until Cala’s Aramente - two months to tie up all her threads.

“Whitestone,” She says to herself, quickly turning and striding through the door, the Raven steady on her shoulder. She walks quickly in the cool morning, greeting those who see her with a kind smile and nod. Those who see her stand still, hands reaching out to grab their running children, muttering softly amongst themselves. 

“The Tempest, the Tempest is leaving for Whitestone,” She hears, feeling the cool dewy grass brush along her ankle. 

“The Tempest is dying,” She hears, and it makes her want to laugh, lips pressed together tightly as she ignores her informal procession. She hears a rustle, and turns to see Cala, stumbling out of a running wolf. 

“Tempest, I almost missed you -” She says, and Keyleth ignores the title for now, inclining her head in greeting and returning to her pace, the large tree coming into view. 

“You know I’m coming back? Everyone is acting like I’m going off to die,” She says with a smile, looking down at Cala. 

“Well, you won’t let anyone go with you and…” Cala starts, but Keyleth hushes her with a wave of her hand. 

“I am...literally ancient, Cala. I can turn into a damned dragon and besides, I have worked hard to build a Council that I trust to lead in my stead. I will not hear it anymore,” Keyleth says sharply, increasing her stride. 

She loves her people, loves Cala, loves Zeprah, but she wants to be  _ away.  _ The Raven coos, nibbling at her ear. She ignores him. Cala bites her lip as she keeps pace with Keyleth before hustling to walk backwards in front of her, holding out her hands in placation. 

“Okay I know I’m - I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you before you left,” She says, pausing in front of the tree, a nervous expression on her round face. 

Keyleth paused, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. Cala grew still before she placed a hand over Keyleth’s. She could feel Cala’s pulse under her hand, wild and anxious. 

“I’ll be back before your Aramente, Cala. I promise. And my promises are not broken,” She says softly, running a thumb along Cala’s cheek. 

Cala gives her a trembling smile, gripping her hand tightly as she nods, her loose braids falling about her face. Keyleth feels affection bloom in her chest, reaching forward to embrace the young woman, chuckling as Cala grips her tightly. She pulls back, wiping a tear from Cala’s face. 

“You’re going to be amazing, Cala. Just...let me finish a few things. It's been a long life and I...I’ll be home soon.” She says simply, patting Cala’s cheek before leaning down to press a kiss to Cala’s forehead. 

Cala takes a deep breath, wrapping her strong arms around her middle as she watches Keyleth press a palm to the cool bark of the tree, giving her a last encouraging smile before passing through the portal, the Raven gripping her shoulder. She passes into the salt-tinged air, filling her lungs with the cold mountain breeze. The range of Whitestone greet her, the white-capped peaks comforting in their changelessness. She turns, pressing her hand to the Suntree, a wide grin pulling at her mouth as it speaks. 

“Hey Keyleth, long time no see,” 

She leans into the tree, a cold breeze tossing the trees full boughs and rustling the Mantle around her body. 

“It's so good to see you, Sun Tree,” She whispers. 

“You too Kiki.” The Tree responds, warm and jovial. 

Keyleth pauses, listening to the soft music of the wind through the sparse leaves, the creak of the heavy branches in the late winter. 

_ I left to say my goodbyes,  _ she thinks. 

_ But I still hate it. _

“Suntree?” She whispers.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” The Suntree whispers back, voice solemn. 

She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around the wide trunk.

“Yeah. I’ll come back here one more time but I...I don’t know how long I have. You know Suntree, you’re one of the only things older than me.” 

The Tree chuckled, a tendril of thought reaching out and soothing her mind.

“I’m older than most things Kiki. I’m going to miss you, Keyleth. But I’m happy for you,” The Suntree responds, and she laughs suddenly, her stomach aching from it. 

“I think you’re the only one that understands, Suntree,” 

The Tree shrugs, as much as a Tree can shrug.

“You’ve been around a long time, Kiki. Even for me. I’m a tree, so it's different, but it's not easy being around so long.”

She smiles, leaning back and patting the trunk. 

“You’re the only one who still calls me Kiki,” She murmurs as the Raven hops from her shoulder to a low branch. 

The Tree bristles in recognition, and she smiles as the Raven caws loudly. 

“You don’t count, birdbrain,” She says with a grin, knocking her head softly against the tree.

“Good to see you too, Champion,” The Tree says, the Raven cawing in response. 

She pulls away from the tree, gripping her staff. The Raven hoops back to her shoulder, tossing a lock of white hair playfully. She looks to the horizon, the great monolith of castle Whitestone looking over the city. The city is waking around her, amber lights flickering in the widows of the square around her as the dark sky begins to lighten, streaks of gold piercing over the mountains. 

She starts to hear whispers, people stopping to watch the Tempest as she speaks to the Tree that she had saved so long ago. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a young mother stop and pick up her child, the little girl pointing at Keyleth as the mother pushes her small hand down, speaking to her child with an awed expression.

“I’ll be back, Suntree. I’ve gotta wrap up a few things,” She says, stepping away. 

“I’ll see you soon then Kiki,” The Suntree responds, and she takes her hand away, severing the connection and looking around the square. 

There are a few dozen people now, and she can hear the cries of babies, the sweet smell of the bakeries - Whitestone rising to another day. She feels a rush of pride as she takes in the square, moving from face to face. She is a legend to these people - the last surviving member of Vox Machina, saviors of Whitestone - an unnaturally large Raven nuzzled against her white hair. 

She looks back to the little girl, still staring at her. She catches eyes with her mother, raising her eyebrows and kneeling, using her staff as support. The mother’s eyes go wide, and she whispers something to the little girl. The girl squeals and runs forward, stopping on the cobblestone in front of Keyleth, her mother following behind. She looks to be about seven, human with dark hair and olive skin, her dark green eyes bright with excitement. Keyleth gives her a wide grin, waving as the girl stares at her with an open mouth, eyes roving over her. 

“Hi, what's your name?” Keyleth asks gently. 

The girl looks at her with a slack face before smiling shyly, clasping her hands together. Her mother stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder as she looks to Keyleth with awe.

“Dorena,” The girl says, her eyes looking at the Raven, it’s head inclined towards the girl. 

“That’s a beautiful name. My name is Keyleth,” She says, and the girl giggles.

“I know that, you’re the Teempest, from Box Machine,” She says confidently, and Keyleth laughs despite herself, gripping her staff and looking at the girl's mother, who looks mortified. She gives the girl’s mother a wink, looking back to Dorena. 

“That’s right! You're very smart, Dorena. It’s nice to meet you,” She says, holding out a hand.

Dorena looks at it for a moment before shaking it, her tiny hand strong in Keyleth’s grip. She druid crafts a large sunflower in the girl's hand. Dorena squeals, holding it to her chest. The Raven caws in excitement and Keyleth watches bemused as he plucks a long feather from his wing, hopping down Keyleth’s outstretched arm. Dorena watches him carefully, her mother crouching beside her. Keyleth can feel the eyes of the town on them now, the square far too quiet as the citizens stop to watch. 

The Raven pauses in front of Dorena before tucking the long feather behind her ear, cooing softly. Dorena’s mother watches, her eyes wet with tears as she looks to Keyleth. 

“Thank you, Tempest - and you, Champion,” She says breathlessly, placing a hand on Dorena’s shoulder. 

Keyleth shakes her head, pressing on her staff to stand at her full height once more. The square is full now, the citizens whispering amongst each other falling silent as they see her rise. The sun crests over the peaks at last, painting the city in light. Dorena looks up at her with a grin, hugging her leg. Keyleth presses a hand to the young girls back, looking back to the people.

“Greetings, Whitestone.” She says, her voice carrying unnaturally in the cobbled square. 

Silence greets her as Dorena steps away, her mother picking her up. Keyleth looks back to Dorena, giving her mother a steady nod. 

“It was so nice to meet you, Dorena,” Keyleth says, the girl nodding quickly and holding the feather tucked in her hair. 

“You too Keyleth,” She says in her small voice, and Keyleth feels her chest ache. 

A vision - Vesper in Vex’s arms beneath the Suntree, her chubby fist waving goodbye as Keyleth went back to Zephrah. She turns away, walking steadily towards the castle, the crowd parting for her with hushed breath. The whispers follow behind her as she makes her way through the city, windows and balconies filling with people, jostling to see the Voice of the Tempest. 

She leaves the boundaries of the city, smirking at the crowd that has gathered. The clatter of hooves greets her, and she sees a cavalry of horses coming from the castle, the robes of the Grey Hunt flowing in the wind. The Grand Mistress halts her horse, hopping down to greet Keyleth with a broad smile. A massive white wolf pads behind her, leaning into Keyleth’s side and nuzzling her hand.

“Hello Joni, good to see you,” She says, the elven Ranger reaching out a hand to clasp her shoulder. 

Keyleth does the same before dropping her hand once more, watching the Raven hop onto Joni’s broad shoulder, greeting the Ranger with a caw. 

“How are you, Tempest?” Joni asks, a glint of suspicion in her intelligent dark eyes. Keyleth remembers distantly that Joni is almost five hundred and fifty now. 

_ If she’s anything like Vex, she already knows. _

“Old, Joni. You know the feeling,” She says with a smirk, Joni raising her eyebrows. 

Joni reaches out to scratch the wolf’s ears, a knowing look in her eyes. 

“That's what I figured. Is this what I think it is?” Joni asks evenly, and Keyleth appreciates this, appreciates giving her an option to flee, to deny, or to tell the truth. 

She decides on the truth.

“Probably. But I’ll be back here. Whitestone will be the first and last stop of my...farewell tour, I suppose.” She says quietly, watching a flash of grief play over Joni’s face before she shakes it off, her usual grin back in place. 

“Good, we need not waste breath with goodbyes just yet,” She says, stepping back into her stirrups and sitting tall on her massive horse. 

The wolf gives Keyleth’s hand a lick before following. The Hunt moves around her, forming a protective barrier around Keyleth. Joni moves her horse to the lead, looking back at Keyleth. 

“I’ll escort you to the castle - they’re all awake, news of the Tempest travels fast.” She says, leading her horse into a slow walk. 

They arrive at the front of the castle, and the family is already there, waiting in the warming dawn. 

Ves'siah (the Third, technically) stands with Veth in her arms, the baby sleeping. Her husband has an arm around her and the other on the shoulder of their first son, Victor, the young boy leaning against his father’s leg. As they came closer to the doorway Keyleth watched as Ves'siah leaned to whisper something to Victor. Keyleth smiled as the little boy looked out and saw Keyleth, breaking from his father to run towards her. She crouched and caught the boy, huffing as she lifted him. He patted her face with glee, his bright grin soothing her heart.

She heard the main gate shut behind her and Joni galloped forth, announcing her with a soft smile. 

“Hail Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest!” 

“HAIL!” The Hunt cried, Victor raising his little fist and joining them. 

Keyleth rolled her eyes, waving a hand to the Gaurd to quiet. 

“Oh hush, that is wholly unnecessary,” Keyleth said to Joni, the Ranger happily ignoring her.

The shouts ceased, and Joni gathered the Hunt once more, giving Keyleth a salute of respect and a cheeky grin. 

Aegon walked forward, Ves'siah at his side. He reached out and scrubbed at Victor’s hair, a warm smile on his face. He was handsome and easygoing, his clever eyes observant. 

“Oh I think it is wholly necessary, Keyleth,” He said. 

Keyleth rolled her eyes, kissing Victor on the head as she sat him down, druid crafting a quick crown of white, thornless roses. Ves'siah smiled widely, giving her a tight half-hug and handing her the sleeping baby. Veth woke as she was handed over, and Keyleth cooed into her scrunched little face. 

“Its so good to see you, Key,” Ves’siah said, still holding her side. 

Keyleth returned her embrace, before removing her hand and druid crafting Baby’s Breath. She smiled as the baby’s eyes grew wide, the tiny buds falling slowly on her face. 

“I have looked forward to seeing you all so much,” Keyleth said softly, kissing Ves’siah’sforehead. 

Ves’siah smiled at her, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. She looked more like Vex than the last few had - perhaps it was the human blood. But as she met her eye, Keyleth knew that the conversation she was dreading would come sooner rather than later. 

“Come on, everyone, let’s get out of the cold,” Ves’siah said, smiling as Victor glomped onto Keyleth’s leg. 

“You too, Vic,” She said, grabbing the boy’s hand. Keyleth reached out to hold his other, and he went without protest. 

Keyleth sighed as the warmth of Whitestone greeted her, and she was led to the Dining Hall where a large breakfast was set, and a host of De Rolos waiting. Keyleth handed the baby reluctantly back to Aegon, hugging and greeting Ves’siah’s brothers and sisters, her mother and a whole host of Aegon’s family. 

By the time breakfast is finally eaten she is slightly day drunk from a stream of mimosas, and she has found herself in possession of the baby once more. Vessalia sits closely beside her, and Victor is showing something to one of his grandmothers - Aegon’s mother. The baby is sleepy now, but excited in all of the commotion and bustle, her large hazel eyes fixed on Keyleth. She reaches a chubby hand for her Mantle, and Ves’siah laughs as Keyleth lets her pull a leaf from it, crunching it in her strong little fingers. Ves’siah leans into Keyleth’s shoulder, sighing heavily. She speaks softly into her ear, watching her play with Veth.

“You’re going soon,” She says softly, glancing up at her mother - Ves’salia, watching her out of the corner of her eye. 

Keyleth gives her a little wave, but the elf just gives her a wry smile. Keyleth knows she will have to deal with her later. Keyleth leans her head back, cooing as Veth blows a raspberry. 

“I am.” She says simply.

Ves’siah exhales sharply, shaking her head and smiling at the baby. 

“I...was pretty sure that it would happen in my lifetime. Still, I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I can’t...believe little Veth won’t know you." She said, her voice chocking slightly. 

Keyleth kisses her head, smiling against her dark tresses. 

“Its okay, love. You have a beautiful life, and more love and comfort than most will ever know.” She said gently. 

Ves’siah took a deep breath, wiping a tear away quickly. 

“So you know for sure? Did my Uncle tell you?” She says with a laugh, her eyes sparking with an old joke. 

Keyleth laughed, and the baby followed, the sweet sound filling the room over the murmuring chatter. 

“No, but I feel it. I am still strong, but I slow down more quickly. I get tired faster. I told Cala, I do not think I have another year in me. She will be wonderful, I know it. And you and your mother are some of the greatest Ladies that Whitestone has ever seen,”

Ves’siah laughed at that, sniffling. 

“You’ve said that to all of us, I imagine.” 

Keyleth raised her eyebrows, softly tapping Veth’s cheek as she blew bubbles. 

“You might be surprised. Vessalia the Second was...a handful. And tradition has revealed that any brat named after your Uncle is...well, they live up to their namesake. I’m glad there hasn’t been one in a few decades,” Keyleth said, smiling as Ves’siah laughed. 

Ves’salia wandered over at last, her knowing eyes on Keyleth’s face. The elf smiled down at the baby, placing a hand on Keyleth’s shoulder. She wore a beautiful blue velvet gown that sat just off her shoulders, displaying her still strong frame. Her lovely face wore the signs of her age, grey-streaked black hair braided back from her perceptive face. 

“Have we arrived at the embarrassing stories part of the evening yet?” She asked in her smooth voice. 

Keyleth grinned, patting Ves’iah’s hand. 

“Not yet, but with enough whiskey anything is possible,” 

The rest of the night passed in a blur as Keyleth played with the children, shifting her shape and creating flower crowns for them all. After the children were put to bed the adults set up in the lounge, drinking and telling stories deep into the night. They all cheered when the Raven appeared again, tapping his beak insistently upon the glass. Keyleth let him in, and he did the rounds from De Rolo to De Rolo, Vessalia laughing as he nibbled at her ear. The night began to get fuzzy as the vintage whiskey was brought up from the cellars, and Keyleth dimly remembered striding into the courtyard and shifting into a dragon to the horror and awe of all present. 

Eventually Keyleth felt herself being led to her room, arm in arm with Ves’salia. The old elf tottered beside her, six hundred and ten if Keyleth remembered correctly. The first full elf De Rolo, a product of Vex'alia's reconciliation with Syldor. Slowly but surely more elves had immigrated to Whitestone over the centuries, bolsteted by a strong ambassadorship that had endured through the centuries. 

Ves’salia had ruled Whitestone for over a hundred years when she married at last - a human to the surprise of all. An ambassador from Marquet, Edan had captured the Swan of Whitestone at last. They had ruled well, and Edan was loved by many when he passed. 

Ves’siah had married late like her mother, at fifty, bringing back a easygoing elven author with her from a visit to Syngorn. Ves’salia had happily surrendered her title in favor of fussing over her grandchildren and tending to her city in other ways. Ves’salia opened Keyleth’s door, sitting down heavily beside her on the bed. Her braids had come loose, and her elegant gown was lopsided and stained from the goblet that Verna, Ves’siah’s younger sister, had spilled on her dress. 

“I can’t believe you get to die first,” She says flatly into the air, and Keyleth snorts into her bottle. 

“Believe it, runt. I will miss you all, though,” Keyleth responded, wincing as Ves’salia tweaked her ear. 

“I saw my daughter crying on your shoulder. I’m not a fool, Keyleth - you’re a half elf. I have obsessed over my children’s lifespan for centuries - 180 to 200, roughly. That’s why I married so damn late. And you are right at 1,800, if I recall correctly?” 

Keyleth took another long swig from her bottle, handing it to Ves’salia. 

“In a month and a half. The village wants to celebrate but...it's so close to her Aramente I think I’ve talked them out of it. Either that or I’ll just be conveniently travelling. And don’t be so fearful for the half-elves - Vex lived to 250. Gods bless her, she was so ready to go,” Keyleth said with a grimace.

Ves’salia nodded, taking another draft and wrinkling her nose. 

“I used to think booze was so uncivilized. That’s what all those damned elves will do to you. We need to get a little more human blood in Whitestone.”

Keyleth chuckled, knocking her head against Ves’salia’s.

“Feel free, dear. I won’t have to bury any more damn De Rolo’s.” 

Ves’salia sighed beside her, holding the bottle up to the light and swishing it, taking a small sip before handing the last of it back to Keyleth. 

“Speak for yourself. Gods I’m going to miss you,” Ves’salia said bitterly, leaning into Keyleth’s side. 

Keyleth knocked back the last of the whiskey, reminding herself to prepare a few Greater Restorations for tomorrow. At this age she no longer cared to debate the ethics of spending gold to cure hangovers. 

“I’ll miss you too - all of you. I’ve been so grateful for this family - as mad as you all are. You can’t help it, with your ancestors.” 

Ves’salia chuckled beside her, and Keyleth set the bottle aside as she reached for her hands. She wrapped them in hers, and they looked so similar, save for Ves’salia’s darker skin. 

“I hope it will get easier, but it doesn’t. I miss the bastard just as much as the day he dropped dead. I can’t imagine how you feel, after all this time.” Ves’salia said into the dark. 

Keyleth squinted slightly as she tried to conjure Vax’s face in her mind, the full curves of Vex’s mouth, the warmth of Pike’s smile. The details eluded her, and she grimaced, grateful for the cushion of the alcohol. 

“Mostly I am just tired. I miss them, all of them, so deeply that some days I feel like I’ve already died. Other days, it isn’t so bad, and I can rise, and speak, and laugh at babies and old friends. You know this by now, love. It doesn’t stop hurting. You just make room for it.” 

Ves’salia sighs beside her, giving Keyleth’s hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve told us so much about them. Anything you want to tell me? Anything particularly salacious?” 

Keylth laughed softly, closing her eyes as the room rocked slightly, whiskey running through her veins. 

“Well, you’ve heard as many of the stories as I can recall. Perhaps there are a few stragglers - did I tell you about the time Vax and Scanlan Dimension Doored into an Ancient black dragon’s belly?” 

Ves’salia chuckled beside her.

“I love that one. Let’s hear something about you - how about your first kiss?” 

Keyleth laughed again in the dark, the booze cushioning the blow. 

“Which one?” She said playfully, giggling as Ves’salia slapped her arm weakly. 

“You slag, I thought my dear noble Uncle was your one true love!” 

Keyleth let herself fall back on the bed, the ceiling swimming pleasantly above her. 

“Oh he is, unfortunately. But there was a...situation. He hated it, actually - now its very funny, but,” 

Ves’salia fell back beside her on the bed, hand in hand, and Keyleth slowly fell to sleep as she told Ves’salia stories that she had not told in hundreds of years, her heart slightly lighter as she spilled its contents in the dark comfort of her room.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the De Rolo family! I decided to integrate more elves into Whitestone since we know Vex and Syldor made up, which would more than likely result in an ambassadorship between the cities. This makes the possible timelines VERY interesting, but keep in mind that these are family trees that have built up over almost two thousand years. Lifespans are wiggly-woggly in D&D ya'll.


	5. Chapter Five

Vax had walked in the dreams of others before, but it was always strange. He took in the familiar sight of Zephrah on wing, reflecting as he banked on a breeze, the sensation familiar against his wide wings. 

He toed the line between life and death - no longer a Revenant, nor a mere soul. The Champion walked a path that was closed to most, a path that allowed him to enforce the will of a goddess. His soul was free to roam, flitting from plane to plane with ease. His strength had only grown - for now rather than use the shadows, he became them. 

To exist as such was to belong to another - her grip on him was loose, but encompassing. When he first passed into her realm, he had spent a few long days with his mother, finding comfort in her embrace. But before long the Matron had whispered in his ear once more, and the work began. 

The first time he stood before her throne he was still raw with grief. She had looked on him kindly, but her eyes were unwavering. His first command had been simple - to tie up the strings left behind him. 

“Together we will clip the wings of those that would rise as Vecna did,” She had said, her melodious voice harsh as she spat the name.

The irony was not lost on him as she explained further - he would be her greatest weapon against those that would taint the world with Undeath. His arm had begun to ache and itch after, the beginnings of the bone like growth that began to bloom from his flesh, painful and strange. Her gaze had flit to it, a spark of curiosity in her bright red eyes. He had looked back defiantly - he could not control it, would not if he could. It was a reminder, a physical manifestation of her, of the one thing she could not take from him. 

Memory, manifested in flesh. 

But there was another transgression she allowed him, perhaps the only thing that made his existence bearable, especially in the lonely, cold beginning. 

The Raven. 

He barely remembered the first time - he had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. After the last dregs of Vecna had been dispatched his Queen began to direct him to others. He slit the throats of corrupted necromancers, stabbed the hearts of wandering feinds, stalked escaped wraiths along the trembling boundaries of dark planes. His work rarely ceased, and he was grateful for it - for the distraction. He would return to his mother when he could - her kind face a balm. 

But his heart must have been more weary than his twisted flesh, and he slipped away, falling towards her - towards Home. 

He woke on the wing, soaring in the Zephrah sky. For a hysterical, hopeful moment he thought it had all been a dream, or a gift - he would spread his impossible wings and fall into her arms, apologies and desperate words spilling from his mouth. But he had no mouth - his vision was strange, and as he spread his wings and screamed he heard his caw rent the air, felt the pull of the cold wind against his feathers. 

He found her, wandering the woods, her eyes dry. He had perched clumsily and watched her, heart aching. Her hair was longer, pitch-dark feathers braided into the bright red locks. But she was unchanged, as young and beautiful as the dawn. He will never forget the thrill as she saw him, her bright green eyes softening in recognition as the glow of the sunset painted her in gold. 

He began to visit once a day, then. She traveled often, but he always found her. Her stays in Whitestone were so difficult at first - for everyone. The children and the city kept them busy, but there was still a shadow of grief that hung over them. It eased with time, and he finally started to visit the others. 

He would peck at Grog’s head as he watched the babies, cawing in laughter as he swiped at him with a wide smile. Pike knew him immediately, her bright grin warm as he alit on her armour. He sat in the window with Scanlan, his music soothing his aching heart. The gnome was always happy to see him, and spoke to him just as he had in life, laughing as the Raven clumsily tried to write with an offered quill or pecked at his instruments. 

“Excellent idea Vax, I really should integrate more fiddle into that melody,” He would say, grinning as the Raven barked a laugh, the feathers on his throat puffing.

Percival was...difficult, at first. _ “I do not accept this,”  _ And he meant it. Vax would peck against the windows of his workshop as Percy poured over blueprints, a baby slung across his chest. Percy would play along, at least - pressing a finger to his lip and shooing him away, gesturing at the sleeping infant. It took assaulting him as he worked alone one night high up in the clocktower, that he at last broke down and yelled at him.

“Goddamnit, Vax, I know alright! I know it's you, will you bloody just leave me alone!” He had yelled, banging his forehead on a beam as he threw a wrench at him. 

Vax had squawked in triumph and swept down to return the wrench, proffered in his beak. Percy had taken it begrudgingly, his handsome face exausted as he scrubbed a hand down his jaw and took the wrench. Vax had stayed for hours, delighted as Percy’s dam spilled at last, telling him about his family, new and old, in between adjusting intricate gears, the Raven handing him tools.

Vex’ahlia had been the most difficult. She knew, after the wedding - at least, he thought she knew. If Keyleth had not told her the truth, Percy must have. He appeared to her in the woods, deep into a long chase. She still led the Hunt, and they were pursuing a beast that has escaped Galdric. She was crouched low, studying a footprint, dragonscale armour gleaming in the moonlight. Her dark brows were drawn in concentration, but her keen focus had not dimmed - as he had settled on a branch before her, her clever eyes had immediately snapped to him. 

Time ceased as they regarded each other. After what felt like an eon she held out her arm, smiling softly as he alit on her dragonscale armour. She ran a steady finger down his wing, a ragged sigh escaping her.

“I was wondering when you would show, you little shitbird,” She had whispered, and he closed his eyes and bowed before her, his world shifting just a little more into something he could bear.

So long ago. 

Keyleth never called him by name - not after almost two thousand years. Perhaps it was a habit, as she had told Cala. Perhaps it was still too painful. There were rare occasions where he heard his name in her mouth - in passing conversations with others, each time the word tripping her like a rock in a shoe. It would thrill him each time, the illusion of life almost tangible for a shining moment. 

It was enough. To see the recognition in her eyes, to hear the soft words she whispered into his feathers, to sit with her in the dawn as he once had. As the years had passed, he had been able to sneak more time away with her, with all of them - always ready for his leash to be yanked. 

But the Matron was kind - kinder than he expected. 

As the cruel years had rolled into one another, they brought his family back to him. Her bright red eyes in the antechamber, her kind smile as she told him that Grog was soon to pass. When Grog recognized him he felt his heart beat once more. He wrapped his heavy soul around his shoulders and took flight - the first of many. 

As they came back to him, he felt his soul begin to reignite, his false heart pounding painfully in his chest. When he held Vex’alia again at last, her light-filled soul screaming and sobbing against his chest, he had felt peace begin to knock at his soul. But that peace was bruised each time he saw Keyleth. Each new grey hair, each buried De Rolo or Shorthalt. 

The Tempest was revered and honored for her tireless work, her commitment to her people, and to all peoples of Exandria. She had weathered the changing world with grace, and many had called upon her aid through the centuries. He knew that her toil was for love, for duty. He knew that it was also for her own heart. He knew that she worked as he did - for the good of the world, but also to busy herself from the aching hollow. 

He returned to the moment, and cut into a dive, fanning out at the last second. He landed on a thatched roof before dropping to a windowsill, looking through to see Cala and her party.

He could feel protective magic around them - an Alarm spell. He peered in - Cala and the elf were cuddled together, their faces slack with sleep, a mountain lion at their feet. The orc was splayed in the back, and he saw the gnome curled beside him, a thick, seven foot python wrapped affectionately around his leg. The bard - Ben, with the heavy soul - was in a nest of pillows, his strong jaw open slightly as he slept. Curled in his arms was Aniah, a dark blanket thrown over her eyes. 

He closed his own, reaching for her consciousness. She was Touched by the Matron, her mind like a beacon of light. He surrendered his form and felt himself shift, opening his eyes to a dark hallway. He could hear the sounds of battle, and though he knew it was a dream he still felt the familiar spike of action, his hand reaching for Whisper at his side. He padded silently down the hall, the sounds growing louder - he recognized a few spells, the incantations screamed, as well as the clash of metal. 

He peered around a corner to see an entryway, a flash of movement greeting him. A tiefling, scrambling up from the white marble floor - a shining silver rapier glowing dimly in her shaking hand. A slash across her cheek painted her pale grey skin in streaked crimson. Her dark hair was loose as it fell across her bright white eyes, the locks damp with sweat. Narrow black horns protruded from her skull, and her full lips were bared in a snarl as another figure appeared. 

Deep red skin, strewn with blood. Female, her frame rippling with muscle. He could not see her face, but her curling horns were massive. Her wing twitched in pain, the red membrane slashed. He watched as she lunged forward and grabbed the tiefling by the throat, holding her aloft and covering her mouth. The tiefling gripped at her throat, the sword falling from her grip. The figure murmured a few words, and Vax heard a distant scream as they disappeared in a flash of light. 

He leaned farther, watching as a Drow ran into the room, his hands alight with magic. His frame was tall and lean, his highboned face stricken with fear and anger. His long white hair was flecked with blood, and his eyes were wild as he looked to his left, seeing - 

“Champion?” A quiet voice asked.

Vax spun on his heel, hand at his dagger as he looked into the darkness. Aniah stood before him in the hall, her pale grey eyes wide as they watched him. Vax inclined his head in greeting, listening as another transportation spell sparked in the distance before silence descended. 

Aniah was silent as she walked forward, her mouth slightly open as she looked at him with open fascination. He listened as the house grew silent before he heard the dim creak of hinges. He glanced to the side as a door to his right fell slowly open. 

He and Aniah watched as a child emerged, a short sword held in her trembling hands. He heard Aniah sigh as they both watched the child walk on shaking legs to the main chamber, a sob breaking out of her thin chest as she bent down to pick up the blood stained rapier, wide grey eyes filling with tears. 

Aniah walked forward and crouched, watching as the girl looked around the blood stained hall with wide eyes. After a long moment she sprinted to her room with the rapier, slamming the door shut and sliding locks into place. 

Anaih looked to the marble floor with a sigh, before her eyes looked back to Vax. He saw the rapier at her side, glinting dully in the sparse light. Her story began to manifest before him as she rose slowly, coming to stand before him. Her eyes met his, the tired grief and rage in her face achingly familiar. 

“I was twelve. My parents were ambassadors from the Dynasty to Rexxentrum - academics and politicians. They were attacked - and taken. What you saw is what I have been able to put together since that night. They have been seen since then, but never for long.” She said slowly, her voice measured - a story told many times. 

She glanced at the door, her shoulders tight. 

“It is why I went to the Matron. I could have been an Archmage like my father, but I needed more than raw power. I need answers. I needed a strength that I could not get in a book. I needed a god.” She said softly.

Vax nodded, the silence pressing in the hall. 

“Perhaps now you need more,” He said, his strange voice echoing in the stone corridor.

Aniah suppressed a shiver, merely sighing as she bit her lip. He watched as she composed herself, her grey eyes steely as she met his gaze.

“Perhaps. Is that why Her Champion walks my nightmares?” She asked, cocking a white eyebrow. 

He huffed, impressed by her composure. 

“I will not waste your time, Aniah. I hope you will not waste mine.”

Aniah did not speak, but her eyes were determined as they held his. 

“I don’t mean to insult, but is there somewhere else you would rather have this conversation?”

He almost smiled as he watched Aniah raise her eyebrows, before the hall dissolved, reforming into a beach at dawn. He recognized Emon in the distance, gulls sounding above them. She turned and led him to a shaded bench, motioning for him to sit beside her. She looked out over the crashing waves, the pink light painting her skin. 

“Thank you. I miss my home but...” She said, trailing off as she leaned forward to brace her elbows on her knees, wrapping her long fingers together. 

“I understand. My home was taken as well.” He said gently. 

She nodded, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. 

“I will speak plainly, Aniah. Cala stands on the brink of her coronation. The thread of the Tempest draws close. And your search continues. We all need things, Aniah - even I. But, what I need and what you need are intertwined. There must be a Tempest, Aniah - as there must be a Champion.”

Aniah looked to him with thinly concealed confusion, her bright grey eyes hard. 

“I pledged myself to the Matron to protect the ones I loved. It sounds like you have done the same - but what you seek still eludes you. You still need more.” 

Aniah stilled beside him, her eyes trained on her hands. 

“I think...I think I know what you are trying to say. But...I do not think I am…” She said, her voice trailing off. 

“I did not either. I was a simple thief - I was terrified. But it allowed me to do great things. Without the Matron I would have been lost long before the end. I  _ saved _ my family, Aniah.” 

She closed her eyes, wincing at his words. 

“I have spoken with the Matron. About you,” 

Her head snapped up, eyes wide as she looked on him with shock.

“You are worthy, Aniah. As Cala is worthy. But you must take the next step. I do not ask you this as a favor to me, or Keyleth - this is a gift, for you, for us all. Our Lady loathes Orcus - She has served you in your search. And She can do far more. But you must accept it, freely. Willingly.” 

Aniah breathed heavily beside him, looking out to the horizon. The amber glow of the dawn washed out her grey eyes, and she looked strikingly like her mother. 

“I hear what you say, and I know it is the truth. I...I only ask that you remember the fear you tell me of so freely. My world is...changing, has been changing, more rapidly than I can comprehend sometimes. I hear you, and I know in my heart and soul and mind that you are right,”

She glanced back to him, her eyes tight as she sat up straight. He gave her a soft smile, remembering the raw fear that had flowed through him those first nights, the bleak unknown. 

“I understand. You must not make this choice now, or tomorrow. But you must make it.” He said gently. 

Aniah looked back to the ocean, turning her head to glance down the shore. He could see in the distance, Cala, pulling Aniah along as she held a huge hat to her head, a long sleeved robe wrapped around her. Ben followed with an overflowing picnic basket, laughing as the mountain lion pawed curiously at the ocean, the elf standing beside it with an encouraging grin. The orc was further behind, and Vax recognized the argument that the gnome was having with him as he gestured towards the water, the orc unyielding as his python hissed at the gnome. 

Aniah watched them with a longing smile, wiping at her eyes Cala tried to drag her distant form into the gentle waves. Vax felt a smile pull at his face as he watched them all, memories aching in his mind. He reached across the bench to hold Aniah’s hand, the young woman flinching at the contact. Her grey skin was alike in color to his own, he realized. So far from the tanned flesh he and Vex had shared. 

“Think on what I have said. Many paths lie before you. The threats I saw in your dream are a worthy foe of a Champion of the Raven Queen - whoever they may be. If you do not choose to take Her charge, I’m sure I will end up disposing of them.” He said, rising to his feet and releasing her hand.

She watched him rise, her eyes thoughtful. 

“Thank you, Champion. I...thank you,” She said simply, a weak smile gracing her narrow face.

He grinned, placing a hand over his heart. 

“Thank you, Aniah. Cala would not be where she is without you. Nor my Keyleth.” He said softly, feeling the dream begin to dissolve at the edges, the horizon growing fuzzy.

He watched her face soften, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He remembered her, crouched and clutching Ben, blood bright against her skin as she pleaded. His heavy soul in his arms, the sleeping Bard whispering  _ ‘Ani, Ani I’m sorry,’. _

“You still love her. After all of this time, after...you still love her.” She said gently, her clear voice breaking. 

He smiled, feeling his phantom heart beat once, weakly. 

“Always. I made a promise - and, against my wishes, so did she. We cannot choose who we love, Aniah. But we  _ can _ choose to protect them.” He said softly.

She nodded, hope and fear dancing in her grey eyes as the dream faded. 

He came back to himself, gripping the worn wood with his talons. Through the window he watched as Aniah woke with a start, sitting up out of Ben’s arms with heaving breaths. He cawed as she glanced up at the window, her jaw slack as she gripped the skull at her throat, watching as he flew into the dark sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And one last perspective shift ;)
> 
> Watching C1 and getting emo about how smiley and playful Vax is while writing the heart-wrenching saga of his and his true love's ultimate demise and ascension into true beings of legend is...interesting...
> 
> See you on Thursday, when Vax's boss shows THE FUCK UP.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! You fuel me!!! Bless!!!


	6. Chapter Six

Keyleth awoke to the sun streaming through the undrawn curtains, groaning at the pain that pulsed behind her eyes. She threw her hand over her eyes as she heard the snuffling and groans of Ves’salia behind her. She turned with a smile to look at the elf, her narrowed gaze showing that she felt just as miserable as Keyleth did. 

“Here, just a moment - “ Keyleth rasped.

She sat up, wincing at the wave of nausea that greeted her. She stumbled to her bag and pulled out a handful of gems, murmuring the incantation. Ves’salia groaned and shoved her head into the pillow as the magic washed over her. Keyleth sat on the bed and cast Greater Restoration on herself as well, sighing as her head cleared and the nausea abated. 

Both women looked at each other and giggled, their laughter turning hysterical as Keyleth fell back, reaching up to grip Ves’salia’s hand and squeeze it. They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and a robe-clad Ves’siah a smile on her face. Her black hair was loose about her shoulders and Keyleth could see a trace of the hangover that she had just cured - though not as severe. Ves’siah had always been so  _ responsible. _

“I’m glad to see you’re both still with us. Breakfast is almost ready, if you can stomach it.”

Ves’salia grinned, heaving herself forward to rise and place a kiss on her daughter’s cheek. 

“There are many perks to having an Archdruid in the family,” She said with a wink, straightening her ruined gown primly and striding towards her rooms. 

Ves’siah watched her mother go with a soft smile, her hazel eyes warm. Keyleth rose easily - her body would be warm and loose for the rest of the day, the result of the spell. 

As she stood a glint caught her eye, and she turned back to see a long, perfect feather on her pillow - and a tightly rolled piece of parchment tied to it. Ves’siah glanced over as Keyleth saw it, walking to the pillow with a concerned expression. They looked at it together for a moment before Keyleth reached out, running her hands along the glinting feather. 

“...does that happen often?” Ves’siah asked quietly. 

Keyleth shook her head, the pleasant buzz of the spell waning as her heart rate rose. 

“No. No it does not,” She whispered, taking the parchment in her hands. It was small, sealed with a simple leather tie. 

Keyleth glanced to Ves’siah, her face worried as she looked from the parchment to Keyleth. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

Keyleth sighed, shaking her head and quickly pulling the tie. Written on the paper in blood-red ink in looping script lay a single word. 

“Sorrowmere?” Ves’siah read aloud beside her, her confused brow looking at Keyleth as her hands began to shake, a burst of flame from her hands incinerating the paper. 

Ves’siah jumped back as the paper burned before leaning down to pick up the feather, untouched by the flame. Keyleth stood still, her eyes wide as her hands burned, mouth slack. She dimly felt Ves’siah touch her shoulder, standing in front of her with pleading eyes.

“Keyleth? Keyleth? Aunt Tree?” She said gently.

Keyleth snapped back, her breath choppy. She gripped Ves’siah’s hand, shaking her head. 

“What does that mean?” Ves’siah asked desperately, her brows drawn in concern.

Keyleth closed her eyes, pursing her lips. 

“It means that my visit must be cut short,” She said curtly, releasing Ves’siah’s hands to sit on the bed, gathering her things from the side table and into her bag. 

Ves’siah shook her head, confused as she sat beside her, a hand on her shoulder. 

“What do you mean? Auntie Keyleth, please -” 

Keyleth took a deep breath and closed her eyes, looking up at Ves’siah.

“It means that I am being  _ summoned _ , child. It means…” 

She looked to the window, taking in the snow capped mountains, the soft scraping of chairs and building of voices as the family trickled down to the dining hall. She turned her gaze to Ves’siah, her dear face torn with dismay.

“I have been summoned to speak to the Matron. Hopefully for the last damn time.” 

Ves’siah’s mouth fell open, and she gripped her robes. 

“Can’t you speak to her here? The Temple is -” 

Keyleth cut her off with a raised hand, rising from the bed and tying her bag shut tightly, her hands tugging sharply on the cords. 

“She calls me to Vasselheim. To Raven’s Crest. It is where the heart of her power lies, where she can speak most clearly. I can’t say that I did not suspect she would do this, but I had hoped she would not. But life has taught me that we do not always get what we hope for,” Keyleth said, wincing at the bitterness in her voice. 

Ves’siah stood and reached out to hug her tightly. She was tall, and her words were close in Keyleth’s ear. 

“Stay for breakfast,  _ please. _ I - I’m not ready to -” She stammered, her voice hitching.

Keyleth held her, running a hand down her back. 

“Hush love, I’ll be back, I’ve already told you all that. I meant to stay for a month, and I won’t let her take that from me. I’ll stay for breakfast, but then I must go. I do not have the time to waste, and the Matron does nothing idly.” 

She felt Ves’siah nod into her shoulder, sniffling as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. 

“Alright then. Come on, Victor wants to see the dragon before you leave. He was so upset that he missed it,” She said with a broken chuckle. 

Keyleth gave her a tight smile, reaching forward to kiss her forehead. She held her there for a moment, inhaling the smell of Ves’siah’s clean hair, her fine perfume, the baby-smell that clung to her robe.

A few hours later Keyleth extricated herself from a horde of irritated De Rolo’s and family, whispering promises of return to tearful children and a steely-eyed Ves’salia.

Joni accompanied her to the Suntree, the square parting for her and growing silent once more. She gave the crowd her best Tempest measured smile, passing through the Suntree and into the biting air of Vasselheim. 

She stood for a moment in the bracing wind before shifting into a raven, pushing herself on strong wings to the dark spires of the Duskmeadow district. She stopped before Raven’s Crest and dropped her form, another roil of anger filling her as she looked at the massive structure. She gathered herself and climbed the steps, the massive doors falling open before her. 

She strode through the temple, Mantle billowing behind her as her staff pounded on the stone floor. The sound reverberated off of the tall chambers like the beat of a drum. Worshippers and priests alike parted for her with stunned expressions, whispering behind their hands as she passed. 

She shifted once more as she came upon the steps, flying her way up and returning to her form in front of the dark wood door. She heard the sound of quick footsteps behind her, looking back to see the pale face of one of the High Wardens rushing towards her, confusion in her dark eyes. She turned back to the door as the footsteps stopped. 

“I request entry, Li’velle. Alone.” She clipped, turning her head to look at the young half -elf. 

Lieve’tel’s great-granddaughter met her eye before giving a short bow, her eyes wide as she looked upon Keyleth. 

“I will not deny you, Tempest. May I ask why?” She says softly, placing a hand on the cool wood. 

Keyleth levels a look at her, fighting the fire that is screaming in her veins. 

“I have business with the Matron. I will leave it at that.” She says sharply, turning her gaze forward as Li’velle nods, the massive door falling open beneath her slender pale hands. 

“I understand. I will guard the chamber for you,” She said softly, her face more pale than before as she looked at Keyleth with a chastised expression. 

Keyleth strode through the door, standing still as it shut behind her with a muffled boom. The swirling colors of the glass windows played across her skin, red bleeding to orange to bruised blue. She took a few steps forward, wrinkling her nose at the iron-smell of the blood pool, still and black before her. 

The silence of the Temple is deafening, and she fights the urge to scream as memories assault her - laying De Rolo after De Rolo to rest in the silent catacombs. Standing alone in the darkness after the other mourners left, alone with corpses and a Raven, eyes dry and chest tight. She steps before the pool, bile rising as she gazes into it before lifting her head to the undulating colors of the windows. 

“I’m not  _ fucking  _ going in there,” She calls out into the darkness, slamming down her staff. 

A shockwave emanates from it, and she feels a grim satisfaction as a few of the windows rattle in their panes, a three-foot wave cresting from her feet in the pool. The echoes chase each other as she listens, her heart steady in her ear. 

“I am  _ eighteen hundred _ years old, and I will not drown in blood for you. If you wish to speak to me, do so now. I have more important things to do than yell at you, goddess,” She said defiantly, her words sharp and clear. 

As the echoes of her voice decayed around her, she wondered for a brief moment if she was pushing her luck. She wondered if he could see her now, what he would think. She realized that she didn’t care. 

She grinned with satisfaction as the colors darkened in the massive windows, gripping her staff tightly as a cold wind blew across the pool. A form rose from it ahead of her, massive and dark. It floated over the pool, shrinking down to that of a woman, shrouded in black, a porcelain mask obscuring her face. Keyleth rose her chin as she stood before her, stopping a few feet away.

“Greetings, Voice of the Tempest,” She says, a cold breeze emanating from her form.

Keyleth gives her a crooked grin, inclining her head in respect. She did not hate the goddess as she once had - but she still wasn’t thrilled to see her. The knowledge that one being had given her so much joy and misery was hard to handle, even now. But she did grudgingly respect her, if out of nothing more than love for those that had passed through her care.

“Greetings, Matron of Ravens. You have called me here for a reason, I hope.” She said, her voice hoarse. 

She could almost see the ghost of a smile flash across the Matron’s masked face. 

“Not one to waste time,” She responded, and Keyleth felt a shocked laugh cough out of her chest. 

She threw her head back and gripped her staff, letting her head loll forward once more to look at the floor. 

“We both know that I have little time to waste.” Keyleth responded, raising her chin to meet her hollow gaze. 

The Matron tilted her head to the side, and it reminded Keyleth of the Raven, the way he would look at her like she was a loose puzzle piece.

“You are correct - your thread grows short, Tempest,” The Matron said lowly, and Keyleth felt a thrill up her spine, gripping her staff tightly. 

“My successor is almost ready. I do not fear death, Matron. You know this.” Keyleth responded flatly. 

The Matron grows quiet, and Keyleth wondered if she had pushed her too far. Once again, she found that she did not care. 

“My Champion still longs for you,” The Matron said quietly, and Keyleth felt her bravado slip, a sudden tight ache in her throat choking her. 

She swallows it down, shaking her head with a sad smile. 

“As I long for him. You know this.” Keyleth responded, watching as the Raven Queen’s form grew perfectly still. 

A moment of silence stretched. Keyleth watched, breathless, as she raised a bone-pale hand to lift her mask. 

She is beautiful, as she knew she would be. But her beauty is...cold. The planes of her pale face are sharp and angular, a hollow casting down her cheeks like the point of an arrow. Her lips are full and crimson, but her eyes - her eyes are striking, large blood red irises gazing at her through long, dark lashes, her arched brows drawn together as she stares at Keyleth. She noted that her ears were long and pointed, like that of an elf. 

Keyleth squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, determined to stand tall before her. The Matron searched her face, her bright eyes fixated on her. 

“I do.” She said simply, her voice like the scattering of dead leaves across a stone tomb. 

Keyleth felt a sudden rush of pity for the woman in front of her, her name and identity lost to time. She remembered suddenly that she had once been mortal - had she loved another as well? 

“Your time draws close. And my Champion knows this. You say that your successor is close to ascension,” The Matron continued, and Keyleth felt a spike of dull fear as she smiled, her full lips pulling in her thin face. 

“There must be a Voice of the Tempest. As there must be a Champion of the Raven Queen,” She said. 

Keyleth felt like she was falling, air streaming past her as her vision tunneled. 

“...what are you saying?” She says between her teeth. 

The Matron gives her a tight smile, and Keyleth shudders as she reaches out a cold hand, hovering over her cheek. 

“You are wise, Keyleth. Far wiser than most,” She says, her voice a sonorous whisper in the chamber. 

Keyleth shook her head as a roaring sound filled her ears. She gripped her fist tightly, nails digging into the flesh of her palm. She gritted her teeth as she looked into the Matron’s face, fury boiling in her as she recognized the expression she wore. 

Pity. 

“I cannot release my Champion until there is another to take his place.” The Matron said simply, her smile falling as she watched Keyleth, hand returning to her side. 

Keyleth felt her hands begin to shake, a warm trickle of blood trickling down her palm as she clenched her fist. 

“There is one who could take my charge, one who you know.” The Matron intoned, her eyes kind, so  _ kind _ that it made Keyleth want to scream, to shift her old bones into a dragon and tear her pale throat out. 

Keyleth gritted her teeth, mouth twisting in a grimace as she unclenched her hand and placed both of them on her staff. Her mind filled with questions, but she wasn’t sure of how well she could speak them. Instead she took a deep breath, the cool wood of the staff familiar under her knobbed fingers. She did not miss the glance that the Matron leveled at the blood that ran down her arm from the half-moon wounds.

“Who?” She rasped, leaning her weight into the staff. 

The Matron looked above Keyleth’s head, raising a long finger to point behind her. Keyleth grumbled and turned. Behind her stood a figure, wreathed in a dim light. Keyleth’s eyes grew wide as she took the figure in, turning back to the Matron.

“Aniah.” She stated. 

The Matron inclined her head.. She regarded Keyleth for another long moment and closed her eyes, disappearing the figure with a snap of her fingers. 

“She has served me well. She has reason to take my charge, as he did.” 

Keyleth sighed as she leaned on her staff, shaking her head. A lock of long white hair fell into her face, and she brushed it back behind her ear. She stood straight once more and took a deep breath, feeling her temper cool as she filled and emptied her lungs. The Matron raised her eyes to hers once more.

“Why do you tell me this.We both know my time is short - I am literally saying my goodbyes,” Keyleth said slowly, words heavy in her mouth. 

The Matron looks almost amused, one eyebrow arching. 

“He asked the same. You are powerful, Keyleth. You have guided and trained many over the years, and your successor stands at the precipice of ascension - Aniah fights with her. They are as devoted to each other as Vox Machina was. If there is anyone who can guide her to her destiny, it is you, Keyleth.”

Keyleth laughed bitterly, aghast. 

“And why of all people would you ask  _ me _ to convince her to follow  _ you _ ?” 

There was a flash of sadness in the Matron’s eyes, and Keyleth felt a pang of guilt that she pushed aside. 

“Your thread is short. You have the power to change the fate that awaits you. I was once mortal, Tempest. I am not ignorant of the bond that you share with my Champion. Despite what you may think, I am not cruel. I simply  _ am. _ Vax’ildan gave me his service, and I gave him his sister’s life, and then his own - twice. I called you here as a favor, Tempest. If there is none to take his place, I will keep my Champion at my call. I will do what I must to protect the sanctity of life and death, as you have.”

Keyleth closed her eyes and tried to ignore the rush she felt as the Matron said his name. She had not heard his name in so long. A flash of memory - Vax holding Vex’s lifeless body, face streaked with tears. She had been so scared, so terrified that the Raven Queen would come for him in the night. She had been so scared of...everything, then. She had turned him away that night, terrified of losing him. 

Little did she know he was already lost. 

Weariness filled her, and she bit her lip as she considered the Matron’s words. She had seen the truth in her red irises - this was a favor. A gift. She looked keenly into the goddesses face.

“What would you ask of me?” She said softly. 

The goddess came closer, her beautiful face blank once more. 

“Speak to her. Guide her. She has much to gain - and little to lose. Send her here - to me.” 

Keyleth narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

“She will lose more than she can imagine. But who am I to judge - my fate was decided for me as a child.” Keyleth said softly. 

The Matron inclined her head to Keyleth, and placed her mask to her face once more.

“You may be surprised, Tempest. Your story is not the only one,” She murmured, the shadows beginning to fade and pull towards her form. 

Keyleth watched as her image began to dissipate, the colored light of the windows breaking through once more. 

“I suppose I should thank you, goddess,” Keyleth said quietly. 

The Matron cocked her head to the side once more, her form dissolving into the blood pool. 

“Perhaps. Perhaps I will thank you in the end, Voice of the Tempest,” She said, her bright red eyes the last thing to fade as she disappeared in a flurry of feathers. 

Keyleth sagged as the shadows dissipated, taking ragged breaths as she leaned her weight into the staff. From behind her she heard the creak of the massive door. She turned her head to see Li’velle, wearing a concerned expression as she ran to Keyleth, moving in front of her and placing her hands on her shoulders. 

“Keyleth, are you alright?” She whispered, her grip tight.

Keyleth reached up weakly to pat her hand, giving the Highwarden a tight smile. 

“Your Queen has given me a task, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about,” She said. 

Li’velle’s brow furrowed deeper. 

“What do you mean?” 

Keyleth shook her head, looking back out at the blood pool. It was still, the colors playing across the inky surface once more. She looked back to Li’velle, straightening her spine.

“I’m afraid my visit to Vasselheim will be cut short.” 

Li’velle stepped back, her face dropping. 

“Is this goodbye?” 

Keyleth stopped, and turned to the half elf. She could see the dark eyes of Liev’tel looking back at her - a dear friend that she had never expected. She had known her child, and her child’s child, since the day they were born. She realized with a rush that this was one that she would not have to bury. She gave her a warm smile, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. 

“We both know that goodbyes are temporary, Li’velle,” She said. 

Li’velle returned her smile, and watched with wet eyes as Keyleth shifted into a raven once more, flying out of the open temple door and into the darkening sky.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the working title of this fic was "Grumpy Keyleth" 
> 
> Keyleth, bullying a goddess of Fate and Death? Its more likely than you think! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Comments and kudos always desperately appreciated as I march towards the end of my furlough and re-entry into the world of the living.


	7. Chapter Seven

Keyleth pushed through the tree and took a deep breath of the mountain air as the dark forest of Zephrah greeted her. 

She shifted into a sparrow, gliding through the air until she arrived at the cabin where Cala and her party were staying. She returned to herself and knocked on the door hard, smirking at the shuffle of sleepy voices and the crackle of magic. 

Cala opened the door, her hair askew, and immediately embraced Keyleth. She huffed and patted the girl on the back, taking her shoulders and gently pulling her away. Cala began to speak, but Keyleth pressed a finger to her lips.

“All is well, Cala. I am here to speak to Aniah,” Keyleth said softly. 

She watched as Aniah appeared behind Cala, her grey eyes reflective in the low light. Cala’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she stepped aside, patting Aniah’s shoulder as she came to the door. 

“Gather your things, Aniah. We’re going on a little trip - don’t worry, I’ll bring her back tomorrow,” She said. 

Cala cocked her head in confusion, but Aniah merely nodded, stepping into the cabin once more. 

“Keyleth - what’s going on?” Cala asked.

Keyleth gave the girl a reassuring smile. 

“You will know soon. She is safe with me - perhaps safer than anyone else in Exandria,” Keyleth said with a grin. 

Cala looked uneasy, and gave Aniah a long look as she reappeared, securing her bracers and pulling her long hair into a tail at the top of her skull. Keyleth watched as Aniah pulled Cala close, and whispered quickly in her ear. Cala’s eyes grew huge as she looked at her, breathless. Aniah gave her a tight smile and a quick kiss on the cheek, stepping into the night with Keyleth. Cala shook her head, leaning into the doorway.

“Send me a Message if you need to - both of you,” She said, discomfort written on her face. 

Keyleth gave Cala another smile before turning swiftly, her Mantle rustling behind her as she made her way back to the tree. Aniah followed on light feet, and Keyleth felt Cala’s eyes on them as they walked together in the dark. 

Keyleth glanced behind her, meeting Aniah’s eye. 

“You were expecting me,” She said softly. 

Aniah nodded, a hand on the skull at her throat. 

“I have...suspected something for some time. When Ben died we saw the Matron, but we also saw the Champion. Since then I’ve had...dreams. One in particular last night.”

Keyleth nodded as they walked, remembering Cala’s story, the pain in her young face. 

“Cala told me. It seems we have much to discuss - but I will need alcohol to discuss it,” She said shortly, hearing a laugh behind her as they reached the tree. 

She placed a palm to the cool bark, and stepped through the portal, Aniah following. She looked back to Aniah as they arrived, watching her take in the city before her. 

“Vasselheim,” She breathed, her eyes expression surprised

“I haven’t seen this city in...” She said quietly, her eyes soft. 

Keyleth gave her a tight smile, rolling her shoulders.

“Do you have polymorph?” She asked. 

Aniah nodded, her eyes still taking in the glowing city. 

“Follow me, we can get there faster this way,” She said, shifting into a raven once more and heading for the Duskmeadow district. 

Aniah followed suit, and about an hour later she led them to an alley beside a tavern, shifting her form in a patch of darkness. A low murmur of voices emanated from the tavern’s open door, golden light spilling onto the cobblestones. Keyleth motioned for Aniah to follow, stepping into the wood-walled tavern.

The bartender looked up as she entered, and a huge grin pulled at the half-orc’s face. She threw up her hands and reached behind her to slap at the back of the human man beside her, who stood up quickly from where he had been rummaging under the bar. He smiled broadly, or at least, Keyleth thought he did - it was hard to see under the massive, immaculate beard. 

“Keyleth! So good to see you!” She called out, filling a mug and sliding it down the worn dark wood countertop. 

Keyleth took the mug with a grin, reaching forward to clasp the bartender’s massive hand. Her husband gave her a wave and stuck his head in the door to the kitchen. 

“Oi, K-special, pronto!” 

Keyleth glanced back to Aniah, watching the exchange with a bemused expression. She gave the girl a wink and released the bartender’s hand. 

“Always a pleasure, Merva. And you too, Ferran,” She called out.

“Sit wherever you like, we’ll have some grub out right quick - and what will you have, m’dear?” She asked Aniah, her smile warm. 

Aniah glanced at Keyleth, and she gave the girl a wink. 

“Do you have anything from Wildemount?” She asked softly. 

Merva chuckled good naturedly, placing her hands on her wide hips and throwing back her long hair.

“We have plenty,” 

Aniah grinned then, slapping ten gold on the counter. 

“I’ll take some wine then, Komordan, if you have it,”

Merva bounced her brows and whistled.

“Fine taste! Keep your gold child, a guest of the Tempest is a guest of mine,” She said with a wave of her hand. 

Aniah took the gold back with a glance at Keyleth. Keyleth rolled her eyes, taking her mug and walking to a quiet booth in the corner. 

“Thank you Merva,” She said, settling into the booth.

Keyleth leaned against the wall of the booth and smiled as Aniah glanced at her nervously. She raised her glass and drank deeply, savoring the familiar warm rush of alcohol. At least that hadn’t changed. Merva set a full glass of dark red wine on the table.

“Drink, child. I promise it will help,” Keyleth said with a smile. 

Aniah took a deep drink, closing her eyes and humming at the taste. Keyleth leaned onto the table, plopping her elbow down and holding her head in her palm. Aniah swirled the glass in her palm, the reddish purple dark against her grey skin. 

“I...don’t know what to say.” She said softly. 

Keyleth snorted, taking another long drink of her ale. 

“How about I ask you a few questions?” Keyleth said,wiping her face with the back of her hand and settling deeper into the plush booth. 

Aniah nodded, taking a shallow breath as she glanced up at Keyleth. 

Keyleth gave the girl a smile, enjoying the warm buzz of the cold ale. She had always gotten drunk so quickly, a bonus to being as thick as a willow branch. 

“I won’t waste your time, Aniah. I hope you won’t waste mine. Forgive me if I sound rude or insensitive - but I need answers. For both of us.” 

Aniah sighed across from her, her black nailed hands stroking the stem of her glass.

“You are the second person to say that to me in so many days,” She murmured.

Keyleth paused, remembering her comment from earlier. She made a note to ask about the dream.

“Let’s start easy. Where are you from?” 

Aniah chuckled, and Keyleth watched with an amused smile as she drained her glass, setting it down a little too hard. Keyleth looked behind her to Merva and snapped her fingers. Aniah watched with wide eyes as another glass of wine was promptly delivered with a wink.

She quickly downed the second as Keyleth watched with a smile. This was familiar - a young adventurer getting drunk in a tavern. 

“You know how many times I vomited on the Lord of Whitestone?” She said, chuckling as Aniah sputtered with a laugh. 

“I can only imagine. Perhaps half as many times as Cala has thrown her dinner on me,” She said, looking up at Keyleth with a wry grin. 

Keyleth felt a rush of affection for the girl. She waited patiently as Aniah leaned into the corner of the booth, her pale grey eyes glancing around the tavern.

“That is...a long story. I am from many places. I am...mixed, I think is the word now. I have Drow and Teifling ancestry, mostly. Perhaps a human or an elf thrown in for good measure. After the War they all...meshed a bit. I usually just say Wildemount.” Aniah said with a wry smile, looking up at Keyleth.

Keyleth snapped at the bartender once more, grinning as a full tankard appeared almost immediately in her hands, another glass of wine before Aniah. 

“Wildemount. I know it well - where?” 

Aine sighs, and Keyleth could tell she was on a sore subject. 

_ Tough luck, kid _ , She thought.

“My father was a native of Xhourhas, and my mother was an immigrant from the Empire. They met in Roshona. I grew up between Rexxentrum and Rhosohna.” Aine said, her voice soft. 

Keyleth heard a bar fight breaking out behind her, and she smiled at the flood of memories. She glanced over her shoulder to see a very muscular dwarf and a lithe dragonborn facing off in an impromptu ring in the other chamber of the tavern. Grog would have wiped the floor with them both. 

“And now?” Keyleth says softly, turning back to see a shadow fall across the young woman’s face. 

A voice in her head told her she was being too harsh, poking too hard. Another voice reminded her of her own family, cold and dead and rotten. Aniah looked away, and Keyleth watched as she gripped the pendant at her throat. A raven’s skull, just like the one she had given Percy. 

“They are...missing,” She said, her voice a whisper. 

Keyleth reached forward and took the girls hands. Her grey skin was cool against hers, and she rubbed her thumbs over the back of her palms.

“The Matron told me that you have reason to follow her,” Keyleth said gently. 

Aniah pursed her lips and nodded, looking around the tavern. Keyleth saw the anxiety in her eyes, and stepped out of the booth, throwing down five platinum and pulling Aniah up. She waved at Merva, who gave her a sad smile, a plate full of food in her hands. She gave her an apologetic look, a hand over her heart. 

“Come with me, I think we need somewhere a little more...private.”

Aniah gave her a grateful smile, following Keyleth out of the tavern. She followed her in silence as they made their way through the dark city. Keyleth led her to a garden, and with a glance at the guard, they were let into the grounds. She sat on a marble bench and patted the seat beside her. Aniah sat and pulled out a length of string. Keyleth watched as she turned and twisted it in her hands - the motion seemed to soothe the girl. 

“There isn’t really an easy way to say it. You...you spoke of the Lord of Whitestone. My fate is somewhat...similar to his. My father’s side is noble, but...my tiefling blood is closer to the surface than most. My father is a drow, of Den Theyless. My mother is a tiefling - a commoner,” She said. 

Keyleth felt a pang of recognition. 

“Theyless? Like the traitor?” 

Aniah bristled and pulled the string taut, the thread digging into her flesh, white lines digging into the grey skin. 

“Or the hero. Depends on what books you read,” Aniah responded.

Keyleth smiled and looked to the sky, tracing the constellations with her eyes.

“Forgive me - family is hard. And you’re right - there were some that called me, called Vox Machina villains.” 

Aniah sighed, twisting the string once more. 

“They met at university - at the Soltrice academy. He wanted to learn more of western magic - he was a Wizard. My mother was...gifted. A Sorcerer. For a time, all was well - they graduated, and my father established himself as an Ambassador. My mother was a professor. My father’s den was...not thrilled with their marriage, but they got over it when I was born. And they fell for my mother in time - she was hard to resist. She was brilliant - enchantment was her specialty,” She said, unsheathing the sword at her side. 

She turned it in the moonlight, the polished metal gleaming. It was a fine rapier, the hand gaurd made of twisting and delicate silver. A large diamond was set into the pommel, glittering in the low light. Keyleth held out her hands and Aniah placed the sword in her grasp. It was finely made, and perfectly balanced, with a dull hum of magic. She gripped the pommel and turned it, admiring the blade. It reminded her of Percy’s sword, the one that was in the current possession of the Lady of Whitestone. She handed it back to Aniah, who sheathed it.

“This was her greatest accomplishment. She fought with it, and I was lucky to retrieve it.” 

Keyleth waited for her to continue, watching as she pulled the threat taught, before she closed her eyes and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She stared at her clasped hands as she spoke, the cold breeze tossing her feather strewn white hair. 

“We were at our home in Rexxentrum. I was a child, twelve. Mother was putting me to bed, and I heard...I heard screams. She told me to hide, and shut the door.” 

Keyleth listened closely, a sadness filling her at the familiar tale. 

“It was an attack - enemies of my parents. I was so young - I didn’t even know they had enemies.” She whispered, gripping her knees. 

“I heard screams, and saw flashes of light under the door and then...nothing. Eventually I gathered enough courage to leave my room and...they were gone. I found her sword, and I took it, along with a few things that I didn’t want others to find. My parents had a sending stone, and I sent a message to our family in Xhourhas. They came to Rexxentrum and took me back...I lived with my father’s family in Roshona, studying magic as they did. Rumors started to circulate over the years - sightings of my parents, in many places. When I was fourteen I was accepted into the Academy early, and I was on the path to become a Wizard like my father,” She smiled sadly, opening her eyes and reaching to the skull once more. 

“I was a model student. But in the night, I walked many paths - I was desperate for information. The sightings were always brief, but they were seen in dark places. Death followed them. I had a breakthrough when I spoke to a survivor in a tavern - it cost me ten gold, but I learned that he was a runner for an artifact dealer. They had interacted with my mother - or something that looked like her.” Aniah said, looking back to Keyleth. 

Her eyes were hard, and she pulled the string taught once more between her fingers, pursing her lips tightly as she wound and unwound the string around her long, thin fingers. 

“I know he was telling the truth, I had charmed him. But that was the only information I had been able to gather in years - I was desperate. I decided that I needed to consult something higher than myself. I researched the gods, and found that the Raven Queen was the enemy of undeath, and of demons. I didn’t know if my parents were dead or possessed, but I had hit a dead end.”

Aniah took a deep breath, stretching the string taught once more before tucking it in a pouch at her side. 

“I went to the temple in Rexxemtrum, deep in the night. I shouldn’t have made it past the doors, but they opened for me on their own. The Keepers let me pass - they seemed to know why I was there. I went before the altar, and I told her my story. I asked for her aid. And…” She trailed off, and removed the necklace from her neck.

“She spoke to me. Told me that...she could help me, if I entrusted my service to her. That she could grant me powers beyond what the books could, if I would defend her creed, and devote myself to her cause. I was desperate. I agreed.” Aniah said softly, tracing the skull with a soft smile on her face. 

“She disappeared in a puff of feathers, and after this lay on the altar. I have fought for her ever since. She led me to Cala, and the rest of them. Her guidance has saved my life many times,” She said, pulling the necklace back over her head. 

“Since then I have discovered many things - and once Cala completes her Aramente, we  _ will  _ find them. They are under the influence of a demon - an underling of Orcus.” Aniah says, her face twisting with hate and determination.

Keyleth whistles in the garden, not missing the wry smile that Aniah gives her. 

“Damn. No wonder you were chugging that wine. She was right, you do have reason to follow her.” 

Aniah shrugged, sighing deeply. 

“I do. But I didn’t expect...this.” 

Keyleth smiles, stretching. 

“Neither did I. I’m still not sure if I believe in destiny or not, but there are forces that guide our lives. The path that I walked was chosen for me - it seems your path may be similar.”

Aniah nods, and silence falls between them. Keyleth hears a familiar caw, and a flutter of feathers. The Raven alighted on her staff, and let out another loud caw in the quiet garden. Aniah watched, breathless, as he looked at her, cocking his head to the side. 

“It sounds like you have walked the path of a Champion for some time now. Do you fear the next step? Or something else?”

Aniah sat straight as she and the Raven regarded each other, her mouth falling open as she watched with unblinking eyes. 

“I...am afraid of what I do not know. And of what I do,” She whispered, lowering her eyes.

“What do you mean, child?” Keyleth said gently. 

The Raven fluttered to her shoulder, the warmth of his feathers familiar. 

Aniah took a shuddering breath, her mouth twisting. She looks to the ground, her shoulders tight. 

“The Champion of the Raven Queen is an honor. One that I do not know if I am worthy to bear. One that...could one day take me from those I love.” She whispered, and Keyleth felt her words like a knife. 

The Raven cooed in her ear, and she gripped her staff, looking at the girl.

“You are not wrong. There is great sacrifice in the path that he took - and the path that I have taken. But - “ Keyleth said, reaching out to take Aniah’s hands in her own. 

Aniah met her eyes reluctantly, her back straight as she glanced from her to the Raven. 

“There is beauty in it. And as the Matron told me herself, our story is not yours. Your path may not look like his - in fact, I highly doubt it. He asked to return from what was unreturnable. She wields dominion over death, and his last death was altered directly by her. Her previous Champion did not serve her as...as Vax has. And if you seek to find and restore your parents, you will need everything you can get.” 

Aniah took a deep breath, jumping as the Raven jumped to her shoulder. Keyleth chuckled as the Raven tossed a lock of her ponytail playfully, Aniah staring at him with shock. Keyleth smiled at them, and stroked the Raven’s side. 

“He likes you, you know. Really, you remind me of him a bit.” She murmured.

Aniah’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she raised a shaking hand to stroke the Raven. He cooed at her touch, and Keyleth reached over to raise Aniah’s arm. She held it aloft, and he hopped onto her arm, their eyes locked on each other. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, Aniah. I understand your fear. I have weathered hundreds of years, and it is brutal. But I have also protected my people, and the people of this realm, for all of those years. My powers allowed me to help banish one of the greatest threats this world has ever seen. They allowed me to save the lives of those I love. I have lived eighteen hundred years, and I would not change it. Nor, I think, would he.” She said softly, smiling as the Raven cawed once more in the garden. 

Aniah nodded, her eyes locked on the Raven. He bowed his head before her, and Keyleth watched as Aniah looked back to Keyleth and then to the Raven, her eyes filling with determination. 

“Thank you, Keyleth - Champion. You have both given me something I did not expect.” Keyleth stood, pressing on her staff with a wince as she rubbed her back. 

“Do you have a decision then?” Keyleth asked, watching as Aniah looked back to the Raven. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Aniah bowed her head before him. He flew from her arm, circling them three times before flying to the edge of the garden, perching on a wrought iron fence. He cawed once more, and Keyleth saw the shadow of Raven’s Crest on the horizon behind him. 

Aniah took another deep breath and stood, a hand at her sword. Her grey eyes were steely as she looked to the temple, and a wide grin suddenly pulled at her face. 

“I have. Shall we?” She asked, turning to Keyleth. 

Keyleth felt a rush of pride, and embraced the girl. Aniah huffed in surprise before returning her embrace, stepping away with a slight snuffle. Keyleth searched her face and found only conviction. 

“Thank you,” She breathed, and Aniah chuckled, patting her on the back as she pulled away. 

“Don’t thank me yet - I have...no idea what happens next.” 

Keyleth shook her head and glanced back to the Raven, smirking as he cawed impatiently. 

“Me neither - let’s find out, shall we?” Keyleth said, taking her hand. 

Aniah nodded and followed Keyleth to Raven’s Crest, a nervous smile on her face as the Raven took off, flying lazy circles above them and cawing into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! The comments have been incredible - SO insightful. 
> 
> Aniah's full backstory at last. My angsty lil' baby! I'm so proud of her. 
> 
> Thank you all again - we're heading into the home stretch for our grumpy queen and her dramatic boyfriend. They are...so tired.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit you guys. 
> 
> I started working again, after six months of furlough. I'm managing a coffee shop again! It is, unfortunately, a fan fiction trope. As I return toil once more in sweat soaked and coffee crusted socks, I can tell you - it is not worthy of the status. 
> 
> So much trash.
> 
> Back on schedule! Thank you all! I live for your sweet words in these weary times!

They made their way to the temple in silence. 

The Raven flew a few yards ahead, stopping to glance back and wait and taking off once they caught up. Before long they stood shoulder to shoulder before the steps of Raven’s Crest. Keyleth glanced to the young woman beside her, nervous energy roiling off of her narrow shoulders. She reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, Aniah flinching slightly at the touch. 

“I will go as far as I can, Aniah.” She said softly. 

Anah glanced up at her and gave a tight smile. She looked ahead and started forward, Keyleth following behind. They arrived at the massive double doors, and Keyleth heard Aniah’s sharp intake of breath as they fell open silently before her. 

The temple was silent save for their echoing footsteps. Keyleth smiled as a rustle came from a side chamber, and a disheveled Li’velle emerged, a stunned smile on her face. Her eyes flit between them as she stopped in her tracks, clutching the holy symbol at her waist.

“I had a...a vision,” She said breathlessly. 

Keyleth inclined her head, and the empty temple echoed with the bright caw of the Raven as it swept through the door behind them, massive wings casting long shadows in the moonlit temple. Li’velle looked on him with awe before turning to look at Aniah, a question in her eyes. Aniah gave her a soft smile, the two women speaking wordlessly. Li’velle gasped as the Raven perched on Aniah’s shoulder, inclining his head towards Li’velle. 

“Gods,” She said simply, shaking her head. 

She looked back to Keyleth and grabbed the keys in her pocket.

“To the Chamber?” She said, her melodic voice soft. 

Aniah nodded, her hand shaking at her side. Keyleth pressed a hand to her shoulder once more and squeezed hard. Keyleth could almost hear the girls heart hammering as they made their way up the long steps. Li’velle opened the door and stood beside it, watching Aniah as she saw the distant pool, the lights of the windows playing over her pale grey skin. 

“It is more beautiful than I remember,” Aniah said softly.

The Raven left her shoulder and landed before the pool, his caw unnaturally loud, the scream refracting off the high ceiling as the reverberations danced and died along the stone walls. Keyleth gave her shoulder one more squeeze, stepping back with Li’velle.

“I do not think I can follow you here, child. I will be here when you return,” She said gently. 

Aniah gave her a quick glance and a grateful smile, a hand on the skull as she strode forward. Keyleth felt her mouth go dry as the Raven looked to her and cawed once more, Li’velle closing the door with a muffled slam. 

Li’velle looked at her in the darkness, her face aghast.

“I knew she was special when I met her - but I did not expect this.”

Keyleth took her eyes from the door and met Li’velle’s eyes. 

“If she is accepted, The Matron will soon have a new Champion.” 

Li’velle closed her eyes, mouthing a silent prayer.

“Incredible. Does anyone else know?

Keyleth shook her head, leaning forward on her staff.

“No. And if she is accepted, it could be some time before she takes the charge,” 

Li’velle’s brows drew up in confusion.

“Why?”

Keyleth smiled sadly, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Since he passed, the Champion has had many duties. I have been able to learn some of them - with the help of your great grandmother. He is an extension of the Matron. But there is another duty that She has given him - or perhaps, gifted him.” 

She paused, smiling at the memories as she closed her eyes. 

“Each member of our family, as they died, has seen him. He takes them. He was there when Liev’tel passed.” Keyleth said softly, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Li’velle.

Grog had been first, surrounded by them all. He had finally stopped complaining about dying in bed, after Pike and Scanlan’s grand daughter was born, so small in his still-massive arms. He died in the afternoon, Pike snuggled against his chest as the rest of them held his hands. His breath had grown shallow, and Keyleth remembered the tightness in her chest, the ache of a chapter closing. 

Grog had opened his eyes, a huge smile on his face.

“Oh you bastard,” He had said, surprising them all. 

Pike had patted his cheek, her face concerned.

“What do you mean buddy?” 

Grog looked at her, confused.

“You don’t see him?” He had whispered, and Keyleth would never forget the way her heart dropped. 

A sudden cool breeze filled the room, despite the closed windows and doors. Grog’s eyes had narrowed in realization, and he gave Pike one grin.

“I love you all so much. Bidet,” He said with a smile, turning his head to look at something only he could see. 

Keyleth had felt a hand caress her face, the touch cool and fleeting, and when she opened her eyes Grog was gone, a smile still on his face. Vex whipped her head towards Keyleth, and the women had shared a knowing look, eyes wet. 

It was the same with everyone - they would look for him, then, smiles growing wide on their wasted faces as he appeared. It was how they knew that it was the end - a blessing and curse. Percy had been next, laughing as he turned to Vex. They had looked forward, seeing nothing but air, turning back to Percy. 

“I’m afraid it’s time to go darling. I’ll see you soon. I love you all,” He had said, children and grandchildren, Scanlan and Pike and their children clustered around. Vex had kissed his lips and Keyleth his forehead. The same caress stilled her, and then - her best friend was gone. 

Vex had been so painful - Keyleth will never forget the sound that tore from her throat when she saw him, a choked groan of pain and relief. She squeezed Keyleth’s hand painfully tightly, and Keyleth had kissed Vex’s cheek, a sob tearing from her throat as a phantom kiss ghosted over her lips. Vex had forced her eyes back to Keyleth, a smile on her beautiful, wrinkled face. 

“How lucky I have been…” She whispered, her voice ebbing as the breath left her. 

One after the other, a caress on her cheek and the breath from their lungs as her family was cradled and carried away in his arms. 

She shook herself back to the moment, Li’velle’s distant voice calling out her name. 

“Keyleth, are you alright?” Li’velle said urgently, gripping at her hand. 

Keyleth gave her a tight smile, nodding against the wave of sadness that crested and fell in her heart. 

Not long, she told herself.

“Forgive me, Li’velle. Memories.” She said. 

Li’velle’s face was concerned, but she squeezed Keyleth’s hand. 

“I understand. I am only fifty seven but I have...lost people. I can’t imagine how you feel,” Li’velle said softly. 

Keyleth looked back to the door, rolling her shoulders. A flash of light appeared from under the door, and the two women looked at each other, Keyleth’s grip tight on her staff. 

The heavy door fell open slowly. Keyleth glanced down to Li’velle before walking into the chamber. Standing before the pool, naked and covered in blood, was Aniah. 

Her chest was heaving, and she looked to Keyleth with a stunned expression. The skull at her throat was now made of bright silver, spotless and gleaming in the colored lights as the blood dripped from Aniah’s grey skin. Keyleth came closer, hesitant. Aniah stood straight, and Keyleth felt the Raven alight on her shoulder once more. She grinned at Keyleth, and spit out a mouthful of blood, grey eyes bright against her bloodstained skin. 

A cold breeze blew over the pool, and Keyleth heard Li’velle gasp once more as the Raven Queen appeared, huge and powerful behind Aniah. Aniah’s form glowed briefly, her silver pendant emitting a bright white light. The Matron’s gaze turned to Keyleth, and fixated on her for a long moment before the voice of the Raven Queen filled the chamber once more. 

“When the Tempest falls, my new Champion will rise.”

The shadow faded as the Raven Queen’s form dissipated into the pool, and Aniah collapsed onto the stone. Keyleth and Li’velle rushed forward, Li’velle throwing her cloak over her. Aniah gripped it with shaking hands, smiling up at them. 

“I did it,” She said weakly. 

Keyleth gripped her shoulders tightly, shaking her head in astonishment. 

“I’m so proud of you,” She whispered. 

Aniah smiled at her before letting her head fall, trying to catch her breath. Li’velle muttered a few words, and the blood whisked off of Aniah’s form, leaving her clean. Li’velle looked on her with awe, helping Keyleth bring her to her feet. 

“So...are you?” Li’velle asked awkwardly, and Keyleth chuckled as Aniah smiled weakly, gripping the cloak. 

“I will be. There is one last task for the Champion - then the charge shall fall to me,” She says with a knowing glance towards Keyleth. 

Keyleth squeezed her hand, the Raven leaning into her neck. 

“Li’velle, may we rest here in the Temple tonight? I will return us to Zephrah tomorrow morning,” 

Li’velle nodded, her face still stunned. 

“Of course, we have a few rooms for travelers that are vacant,” 

Keyleth glanced back to Aniah, who was swaying on her feet. 

“Li’velle, take care of her. I will follow in a moment,” Keyleth said. 

Li’velle cast another spell, Aniah’s discarded clothing and possessions floating behind her. She gripped the girl’s shoulders and started to lead her away. Aniah reached out a hand for Keyleth, and she squeezed it in response.

“Go on, I’ll be there soon. Rest,” She said softly.

Aniah nodded weakly, allowing Li’velle to lead her away. 

Keyleth turned back to the pool, looking at the flat expanse once more. She stroked the Raven’s feathers idly, the pool of blood where Aniah had stood reflecting the shifting lights. 

“I never thought I would thank you for anything,” She said softly. 

“But I am. You did not have to do this. I know she will serve you well, Matron.” 

A cool breeze emanated from the pool, and she felt a cold caress on her cheek, familiar and alien all at once. She felt the kindness in her touch, the gentle gasp of a final breath in a warm bed.

“I thank you, Tempest. My work and legacy is secure - as is yours. You shall both find rest soon,” She hears, Her voice reverberating.

Keyleth exhaled deeply, pressing her hand to the Raven. 

“Soon,” She said softly, before turning and heading down the stairs, the door closing behind her with a final boom.    
  



	9. Chapter Nine

Keyleth woke to darkness. 

She laid there for a moment, blinking through the haze of sleep as she remembered where she was. The chamber was small and plain, meant to house pilgrims who ventured to Raven’s Crest in the hopes of communion. She rose and pulled back the heavy curtain, grateful to see the plush dark that still enveloped the city. 

“Time to go,” She said to herself, gathering her things. 

She made her way to Aniah’s room, pushing open the door and finding the girl fast asleep. She sat on the bed beside her, watching her for a moment. The coiled control of her demeanor was not gone even in sleep, but there was an openness to her slack face that made it a bit easier to believe how young she really was. Keyleth sighed as she watched her deep breaths, eyes flitting beneath their lids. The skin below was sallow - she wondered how much sleep the girl had been able to get away with. Keyleth brushed aside a pang of guilt at waking her - but time was not something she had much of, anymore. 

Keyleth shifted forward, placing a hand on Aniah’s shoulder. The girl woke with a start, her eyes snapping open as a hand alit with magic. Keyleth chuckled, patting her hand in apology. 

“It’s just me, Aniah. Come, we must go.” 

Aniah pursed her lips and nodded, shaking the sleep from her wiry limbs as she swung her feet to the ground. She wore a sleeveless top and underwear, and Keyleth glanced at the faint scars that arched across her flesh - the marks of an adventurer. Keyleth left to let her dress, knocking on Li’velle’s door. The priestess answered almost immediately, her dark eyes wide. 

“You’re leaving,” She said simply. 

Keyleth nodded with an apologetic smile, watching a ghost of grief play across her face. She stepped out of the door, her wet eyes trained on Keyleth. They regarded each other in silence for a moment before she embraced Keyleth tightly. Keyleth huffed as the wind was knocked out of her, before smiling and pressing a kiss to Li’velle’s brow, her head tucked under her chin. 

“I’m going to miss you so much. Thank you, for everything. A Champion, living and breathing - it is such a gift.” She whispered into her chest. 

Keyleth hugged her back, remembering a dark eyed infant in Liev’tel’s arms, her eyes alight with a future she never imagined. She patted her back, gently extricating from her embrace as Aniah emerged from her chamber, pulling the leather cord on her bracer tight. Her hair was loose, bright white streaming down her shoulders. New feathers were wound into braids - larger and darker than any other raven. 

“I will miss you, Lili. There will be letters and packages, for you, for others. Look for them. There are surprises still,” Keyleth said with a secretive smile, brushing a lock of hair behind the half-elf’s ear.

Li’velle laughed weakly, glancing back to Aniah, who greeted her with a somber nod. 

“I will,” She said softly, wrapping her shawl tightly around herself. 

Keyleth leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, Li’velle shivering at the contact. 

“Goodbye, little bird. I will see you again,” She said with a fond smile, turning and making her way out of the temple, Aniah’s soft footsteps following. 

Keyleth took a deep breath as they exited Raven’s Crest, the cool air of Vasselheim filling her lungs. She glanced down to Aniah and winked, shifting into a raven and taking wing. Aniah followed, and soon they had arrived at the tree, Keyleth pushing through to Zephrah. 

The sun was higher here, pushing dull gold through the thick boughs as the women walked. Keyleth glanced to Aniah, exhaustion written on her face as she walked beside her, steps light against the carpet of pine and leaves. 

“Do you feel different?” 

Aniah huffed, her loose hair curtaining her face as she shook her head. 

“Yes and no. There is the knowledge that I will be different - that changes are to come. I am...in the wings, as it were. I know what awaits me, though I do not know when. Right now I just want to sleep for a week,” She said, giving Keyleth a wry smile. 

Keyleth chuckled softly, remembering the anxious joy that had filled her at the completion of her Aramente. Falling into Vax’s embrace, both of them bone weary - only to be woken by a damn automaton. 

“I know the feeling.” She responded.

They arrived at the cabin, and Keyleth watched with amusement as Aniah sighed nervously and squared her shoulders. She barely knocked once before Ben ripped open the door, his brown eyes wide. He was half dressed, his long hair frizzed and wild. Aniah grunted as he embraced her and placed a passionate kiss to her lips, before holding her face in his hands, inches from his own. Keyleth fought a laugh as Aniah blinked dumbly, Ben’s eyes roving over her. 

“Never do that do me again, Annie. I swear to… _ somebody! _ ” He said harshly, stealing another fierce kiss as she squealed weakly, before at last wrapping her arms around him, patting his bare back weakly as she pulled away. Her eyes held his, filled with a depth of affection that stirred Keyleth’s heart in aching memory. 

“I’m sorry, I had to...I’m sorry,” 

He silenced her with another kiss, pressing their foreheads together as he held her, his lean arms trembling as he held her close. Aniah wound her hands into his loose hair, gripping at his skull gently. Keyleth heard the cabin stir, and Cala came forward, a soft look in her eyes as she watched them before glancing back to Keyleth, a silent question. Keyleth nodded, and smiled as Cala looked to Aniah with pride and wonder. Ben pulled away, wrapping her hand in his as their party came forward. Aniah sighed and gave him a small smile, letting her grip fall as she turned to her friends.

Cala traced the silver skull at Aniah’s throat before running a hand along one of the new feathers, the two women sharing a long look. Cala gave her a wide smile, leaning up to kiss her forehead as Aniah smiled nervously.

“I’m so  _ proud _ of you, Annie,” She whispered.

Fretha prowled forward, sniffing curiously at Aniah before chuffing in confusion, running her head under her free hand. Eladirel emerged from the cabin, tugging a shirt on as she squinted at Aniah, her golden hair in a long braid at her side as she ran a hand through the mountain lion’s fur. Keyleth stood back and watched as they all greeted her, Ben’s grip never leaving hers. 

Garuk was confused, but supportive, the snake arching to sniff Aniah curiously before resting her head on her shoulder, tongue flicking her ear affectionately. Terrence patted her leg in support, his clever eyes on the pendant. Aniah took a deep breath and looked at her companions, and Keyleth fought a wave of memories at the fondness in her eyes. 

“Keyleth took me to Raven’s Crest,” She said. 

Ben’s eyes grew wide as his suspicions were confirmed, his grip tightening. 

“That’s really far,” Garuk said, his deep voice rough with sleep. 

Aniah looked up at him with a crooked smile, and she stroked the head of the python as it slowly slithered through her loose hair.

“It sure is, Gar. Good job remembering,” She said kindly, the orc smiling at the praise.

Eladriel leaned into the doorframe, her eyes flicking from Aniah to Keyleth and the gleaming pendant at Aniah’s throat. She interrupted Aniah, her clear voice cutting through the warm dawn.

“You did it, didn’t you?” 

Aniah took a deep breath, nodding simply. Keyleth watched as Ben closed his eyes, looking to the ground. Terrence whistled, leaning against the orc with an impressed expression. Eladriel scritched Fretha behind her ears, and looked to Cala with a guarded expression. 

“I’m not...not yet. There is one last task for the Champion, and then the position shall fall to me,” 

Cala glanced at Keyleth, understanding blooming on her face. Keyleth met her gaze, giving her a small smile. She could see tears gathering in her large eyes, and a tremble in her jaw. 

“Aniah needs her rest,” Keyleth said at last, the group turning to her at once. 

“I am going back to Whitestone, for a month. You know how to reach me.” 

Cala grew still, pursing her lips. Ben opened his eyes once more, his eyes trained on Aniah’s face. Keyleth knew the feeling as watched as pride and fear flitted across his handsome face. 

_ Vax sitting across from her on the bed, the bone chilling caw of the raven before it flew off, a perfect dark feather on the windowsill. The first of many. _

“I understand. Thank you, Keyleth. I…” Cala trailed off, overwhelmed. 

Keyleth inclined her head, gripping her staff as she leveled a steady look towards Cala. 

“I will see you soon, Cala. Good luck, to all of you,” She said.

Cala’s mouth twisted with unease, but Eladriel’s strong hand on her shoulder stilled her words. She watched helplessly as Keyleth made her way back to the tree, the heavy mantle rustling behind her. Before long her palm was pressed to the tree, the peaks of Whitestone filling her eyes once more, dim in the dawn light. 

A gust of air above her ruffled her hair, and she laughed as the Raven emerged through the portal behind her, nesting in the high boughs of the Suntree. The town was sleepy, on the last day of the week. Pelor’s main worship day was the one before, and the only townspeople awake were the bakers and shopkeepers, sleepily sweeping floors and kneading bread for the day, soft orange light glowing in the windows. 

She closed her eyes and leaned against the tree, smiling as the warm consciousness of the Suntree greeted her own. 

“Kiki, long time no see,”

She chuckled, knocking her head against the bark. 

“Feels like a long time. Many things have happened. I’m not used to being worried about time, but now I’m running low.” 

“I heard. I’m glad you’re back - the De Rolo’s missed you.”

Keyleth felt a fond smile tug at her lips, dozens of De Rolos and Shorthalts flashing before her. Two months until Cala’s Aramente - one month left with this part of her family. A warm breeze ruffled her mantle, a harbinger of the trudging spring. 

_ Almost my birthday. _

“Should I be expecting a ridiculous birthday party?”

The Suntree shrugged, or at least seemed to. 

“Beats me Kiki. I’m just glad to see you again,”

Keyleth opened her eyes and patted the trunk. 

“You too Suntree. I’ll be back one more time for Zephrah. I’ll...see you then.”

The Suntree’s voice was warm, and she could almost feel the boughs pull closer to her, the ancient energy of the tree enveloping her in a friendly embrace.

“See you then, Kiki,”

She turned back to the square, grateful for the soft cover that dawn still gave. She glanced up to the Raven, imitating his caw with a grin before shifting, flying together to the front door of Whitestone castle. Returning to herself, she gripped a Sending Stone in her pocket, the Raven settling on her shoulder. She held it to her lips, and spoke softly.

“Ves’alia, I’m back. Open the door, runt.”

There was no response. The Raven cooed in her ear, and she shushed him, grinning as she heard footsteps nearing the door. It was wrenched open powerfully, Ves’alia glaring at her, her long hair in a braid and a fierce look on her face. She held the door for a long moment before reaching forward to slap Keyleth’s face playfully, pulling her close as she squawked in indignation. 

“Don’t do that again you  _ bitch. _ You know I keep the stone beside me. Why did you call?!” She said, pulling away and angrily wiping a tear from her eye.

The Raven cawed loudly, but Ves’alia just waved a hand, turning back and allowing them to enter the castle. She closed and locked the door behind them, regarding Ves’alia. Her beautiful face was still angry, and Keyleth could see the hurt in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I’m sorry, love. I had to move quickly, and I came back as soon as I could. I...had to focus on my task. But it is done. I did what I needed to do.” Keyleth said softly, voice echoing in the large chamber. 

Ves’alia exhaled, rubbing at her arms and collecting herself. She glanced over Keyleth’s shoulder, to the massive tapestry of Vox Machina that hung there. She collected herself before looking back to Keyleth, her anger quieting. 

“And what did you need to do, Keyleth?” She said cooly, her dark eyes curious. 

Keyleth gave her a tired smile, stroking the Raven’s beak. 

“If you will please give me coffee, I will tell you everything, and I mean everything,” Keyleth said, taking in the brief surprise that flashed over Ves’alia’s face - challenge flaring in her dark eyes. 

She was always easy to distract with gossip. Her dark eyes narrowed, and Keyleth knew that she could sense what she was trying to do. She gave in, rubbing a hand over her face and reaching out for Keyleth’s hand, holding it tight as she led them to the kitchens. 

“Fine then, but I’ll hold you to your word. There are a few certain secrets I would still like to hear before you fuck off for good,” She said, throwing back a begrudging wink. 

Keyleth rolled her eyes but could not fight the flush that filled her cheeks, and she allowed herself to be tugged forward, the Raven flapping against her neck as he struggled to hold on.

An hour later Ves’alia lowered her mug, turning from Keyleth to look over the mountains. 

They sat in the greenhouse, light beginning to stream into the massive twenty foot floor to ceiling windows. The room had been a gift from Percy, giving her a bit of nature in a mansion of cold stone. Keyleth set down her empty cup, glancing up at Ves’alia as she gazed over the ridge. The golden sun painted her sharp features in half shadow, illuminating the dark amber of her eyes, the grey streaked dark brown of her long hair, the narrow lines that streaked past her eyes, across her proud forehead. 

“Gods.” She whispered, her eyes distant.

Keyleth chuckled, filling her cup and dressing it with honey and cream. The Raven had settled on the arm of Ves’alia’s chair, looking out over the mountains with her. Dark green light played across her face, streaming through the lush plants and the gleaming glass. 

“You know, Li’velle said the same thing,”

Ves’alia turns back to Keyleth, glancing down at the Raven with a sad smile.

“How fucking tragic. You had to find his successor so he could...be with you. And now, your own is at the cusp of her ascension and you…” 

Ves’alia closed her eyes, and Keyleth waited as she blinked away a few tears. They slid slowly down her sharp cheekbones, sparkling in the strengthening sun. 

“It's all quite...I can’t imagine. I’ve...its been years for me. And beyond him, I have lost others but...oh  _ Keyleth _ . For so many years I looked up to you, I was in awe of you really. And now, I know you as a woman - someone who has the same struggles and emotions as I. You have...been such a great friend. I cannot begin to imagine your grief. I’m so happy for you, and so sad and so...I sound like my daughter,” She says with a broken laugh, letting Keyleth lean forward and wipe away a few of the tears. 

“It’s okay. It...for the first time, in a very long time - it is going to be okay. I will see you again, love. I’ll see all of you,” 

Ves’alia kept her eyes closed, leaning into Keyleth’s touch. 

“I feel like a child,” She grumbled, looking to Keyleth at last. 

Keyleth ran her thumb along her cheekbone and smiled as the sun crested over the mountains at last, filling the room with warmth.

“Everyone does, sometimes. Loss can...break us down, show us a more primal version of ourselves. But there is strength in it. Growth. You know this well,” 

Ves’salia nodded and gave Keyleth a weak smile, leaning back into her chair.

“I do,” She sighed, her eyes distant. 

Ves’alia shook her head, turning to look at the massive wrought iron clock on the far wall.

  
“The house will wake soon,” She said softly.

Keyleth listened, hearing the soft sounds of breakfast in the kitchens, the cooks preparing the first meal of the day. She rose, patting Ves’alia’s back as she did, tossing back the rest of her coffee.

“It shall. Want to have some fun?” Keyleth asked, a spark of mischief in her eyes. 

Ves’salia laughed at last, setting down her mug and stretching. 

“I like the sound of that, Aunt Tree,” She said with a wink, heading to her daughter’s room as Keyleth ran outside, shifting into a dragon and hovering outside her bedroom. 

She roared, and saw Ves’aiah fall out of bed as her mother slammed on the door at the same time, her face shifting from fear to rage to joy to irritation as Keyleth crowed at her window, sinking down and returning to herself as Whitestone Castle filled with light, the family rising to the laughter of of Ves’siah’s bell like laughter pealing down the stone halls. 

The weeks passed quickly. Long days filled with picnics, travelling, carrying the baby until her arms ached. The Shorthalts made their way to Whitestone, and they all managed to almost surprise Keyleth with a massive birthday party, bards from all over the continents playing deep into the night as chefs from all across the continents created ornate feasts. Whitestone came to life as a festival bloomed in the streets, the yearly celebration of Vox Machina painting the streets in flowers and light. 

Keyleth danced and drank and cried with laughter as an acting troupe led by Scanlan and Pike’s great grandchildren staged a loose adaptation of the adventures of Vox Machina - a two part, two night affair - stopping the play frequently to playfully ask Keyleth for advice or clarification, the hot spotlight careening to her each time, the crowd roaring with laughter. Keyleth had blushed and sputtered at first, before leaning in and wrapping the crowd around her finger, long dead jokes flowing freely from her aching throat.

Before she knew it, she and Ves’salia were splayed across her bed once more, each clutching a bottle to their chest - the night before she was to leave for Zephrah. The Raven had left for the day, though it had watched the play with her, cawing and cooing along with the crowd.

Keyleth had put one of Scanlan’s records on, a soft album that he had written after Juniper was born, writing music with one hand and rocking her crib with the other as Keyleth watched, amazed at the ease with which he had settled fully into fatherhood. The play had summoned her memories to the forefront of her mind, and it took her a moment to realize that Ves’salia was talking to her, her face turned to hers in the dimly lit room. 

“There you are. Are you with me?” She slurred, her eyes crinkling as she giggled at herself. 

Keyleth nodded, smiling as Ves’salia laughed at her. 

“You said you would tell me anything,” 

Keyleth hummed, taking another deep drink. 

“Sure did kiddo.”

“What was he like? Really? The plays were wonderful but I want to know. I want to know what you’ve waited so long for. From one widow to another,”

Keyleth felt her breath hitch before she took a deep breath and another swig, sighing deeply as she looked at Ves’salia. She held her gaze openly, with a soft, understanding smile. 

“Not a Widow. We were never married - didn’t have time. And I didn’t want to elope like your asshole ancestors.  _ Gods _ that pissed us off. I know why they did it but…”

Ves’salia waited patiently, reaching across the bed to Keyleth. She wrapped a hand around hers, and the women scooted closer together. Keyleth leaned back and took another deep drink, wiping her mouth on her bare arm before lying back down. Ves’salia raised an eyebrow as Keyleth gathered her thoughts. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of Ves’salia’s hand in hers, the warm numbing of the alcohol as it weighed down her limbs and loosened her tongue once more. 

“You look like her, you know. And you look like him. They really were so alike - they could be mistaken for each other sometimes. He would let us dress him up, and I laughed until I cried - he looked so  _ good. _ They were both slender, and kept their hair long. It was...hard, after he passed. She covered all the mirrors for a little while. I’m still glad they had Vesper so soon - all of those De Rolo’s kept her busy. Kept me busy.”

She paused, listening to the song. She remembers when Scanlan showed it to her - the sweet melody had made her cry. She had suggested adding birdsong to it, and the look he had given her had stopped her in her tracks. Scanlan had always seen people, really seen them. It was why his music and his magic were so powerful.

She knew he would have saved him if he could. The heartbreak on his kind face as his Wish twisted away was burned into her heart. 

He managed to bring him back to them, once. 

She squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to summon her memories, ragged from pouring over and over them.  _ What was he like? _ How did she summarize a soul so vast?

“He was…” She trailed off, smiling as she tried to speak.

“He was smart - mostly. Reckless, to a fault. The jenga shit was real - shit went sideways often enough that he made a word for it. He was kind. So kind. Patient, at least with me. Very loyal - to a fault, perhaps. And loving. He loved like he lived - deeply, recklessly, fully. It took me so long to give in - because I knew what would happen. But I never could have imagined it would happen like it did.

He was funny - he really did love to play pranks. Honestly, he was smiling more often than not - he lived for Scanlan’s jokes and songs. He loved to laugh, and when he truly lost it he would just fall off whatever furniture he was sitting on and  _ cry.  _ He was very physical, he loved to spar and fight and move - I felt like I was  _ in _ my body. Vax was more present - his will and his flesh were one.

He loved to fix our hair - it was a way of bonding and resting for him, something that he could control and help with as the world just...fell apart around us. He was incredibly skilled - lithe and quick. He could disappear like no one I’ve seen since, even before the wings. He loved animals, and children. He was handsome, with the most beautiful hands and dark, silken hair. And, once we got there, a fucking  _ incredbile _ lover,” She breathed, opening her eyes.

Ves’salia smiled softly as she spoke before giggling in surprise, pressing a hand to her mouth. 

“The wings seemed pretty sexy,”

Keyleth laughed, feeling her cheeks flush with a memory, soaring over Vesrah before...

“You have no idea. He loved how powerful I was, too - he was never intimidated or scared. The first time I turned into a dragon he was thrilled,” She said, remembering his hungry mouth on hers, the door slamming behind them as she ran her hands over his warm, living skin. 

Ves’salia sighed beside her, eyes soft and hazy. 

“He sounds like someone worth waiting for.” She said simply, squeezing Keyleth’s hands. 

Keyleth opened her eyes, Ves’salia’s grip tight in hers. 

“He was. He is,”

Visalia's face was soft once more as she exhaled deeply. Keyleth sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Dawnfather, to Melora, to Sarenrae, to the Matron. For her family, for a family that never stopped coming, never let her curl herself away and disappear, never let her heart grow cold and rusted. The long fingers wrapped in hers were so far removed from the twins in her memory, but they were a promise, a living reminder of them. Endless beginnings and endless endings. 

_ Not endless. Not for long.  _

“I am going to miss you so much.” Ves’salia whispered, her lip trembling.

Keyleth gave her a warm smile, rubbing her thin hands in her own. 

“I’m going to miss you too. All of you. But as I keep telling you all, I will see you again.”

Ves’salia rolled her eyes and shook her head at Keyleth, patting her cheek. 

“I know. We both know. It still hurts,” She whispered.

Keyleth felt herself sinking into the soft bed, and she closed her eyes once more.

“It does. Losing is the cost of loving - but now I think it comes out even, in the end.”

Ves’alia gave her a long look, her face at last creasing into a weary smile.

“I’m happy for you, Keyleth.”

Keyleth felt sleep tugging at her, and she gave in, letting the comforting darkness take her.

“You know what...me too,” She murmured, before a dreamless sleep descended, Ves’salia’s soft laughter warm in her ear.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Your comments and kudos are sweet manna from heaven <3


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab some tissues cuz' I'm comin' for those wet ass tearducts babies 😂
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting, you're angels all of you ❤
> 
> Two chapters to go!!!

Keyleth woke to a pounding headache.

She opened her eyes, peering up at the stone ceiling of her room. She sat up slowly, careful not to wake Ves’salia. She drew up her knees and hugged herself, placing her narrow chin atop them, pressing a healing spell to her forehead and sighing as the pain ceased. 

The room greeted her as it had for centuries - the art on the walls, the scattered trinkets and letters. Another mannequin stood in the corner, holding her Mantle and circlet. A dresser held clothes that fit her, smelled of her. She scrubbed at her face as she looked around in silence, the room cool in the dawn. 

She slowly extricated herself from the bed, stopping to watch Ves’salia sleep. She took a moment to memorize her face, her hair, the curve of her lips slightly parted in sleep. She tore herself away, grabbing a heavy shawl from a hook beside the bed. She let the weight bear down on her thin shoulders, and padded out of the room. 

Her room lay at the end of a hallway, near the main family rooms, but far enough that she had been able to sleep through the infant screaming of Vesper, of Juila and Julius, of Cassie, of...

She sighed as she made her way through the long hall. Dawn began to bloom, bruise purple light cutting through the windows. She walked without purpose, without goal. The castle was as familiar to her as her own body, an extension of her family, of herself. It had sheltered generations, and stood the test of the changing world with grace and strength. 

Percy and Vex had made good progress in the year they took off - but they had all helped. The great castle had still reeked with the touch of the Briarwoods, and the work was unending. But now, almost two thousand years later, the blood on the stones and the shattered beams were a mere legend. She arrived in the main hall, standing before the tapestry that greeted those who entered. 

Massive and intricate, it depicted each of Vox Machina. It was a faithful rendition, and it still gave her pause to see it. Keyleth gripped her shawl tightly as she studied the tapestry, taking in the details.

Scanlan had commissioned it, surprising them three years after Vecna’s defeat. He led them to the main room, pulling aside a sheet to show it. They had all gasped, Grog clapping the gnome hard on the back. Keyleth had snuck down after bed, and stood before it for a long time, tracing the thread in silence as tears fell down her cheeks.

Percy and Vex were in the center, a slight glow about Vex. She wore her dragonscale armour, powerful and glittering, Fenthras drawn. Percy was determined and strong, mirroring his wife with Bad News. Grog and Scanlan flanked their sides with Tary. Scanlan was encased in a purple glow with a cocky smile. Grog slammed the Knuckles, a joyful rage on his bearded face. Tary grinned as he cast, perfect hair blew back. Above Vex and Percy was Keyleth, her eyes aglow with power as her hands sparked with fire, wind blowing back her long red hair. Pike was above her, white wings spread, her face filled with peace as she clutched her holy symbol, encased in light. 

And beneath them all, wings spread wide enough to encompass was Vax'ildan. He gripped daggers in each hand, his face raised to Keyleth, a longing smile on his young face, the feathers of Deathwalker’s Ward glimmering with silver thread.

She heard a soft sound and turned to see Ves’siah, a soft smile on her face as she came forward to stand beside Keyleth. There was a quietness to her, a wisdom in her eyes as she searched the Tapestry, her gaze settling on Vax. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but thank you. For...everything.” She said, her eyes roving the tapestry with Keyleth. 

Keyleth sighed, turning to look at the woman. There was acceptance in her eyes where there had been fear and grief before. Keyleth reached out to hold her hand, rubbing circles into her light brown skin. 

“I would do it all again. I have had an incredible life.” Keyleth said softly, glancing back at the tapestry.

Ves’iah smiled gently, leaning forward to press her head to Keyleth’s, breathing in deeply. 

“Let’s have breakfast. My mother will wake soon, and I’m sure she’ll be angry to wake alone,”

Keyleth laughed, the sound echoing in the chamber, and allowed Ves’siah to lead her away. 

The day was spent with the De Rolo’s, and Keyleth went from person to person, saying her goodbyes gently, repeating the exhausting words again and again. The Raven appeared at noon, watching her from an open window. She gave him a smile and frowned as he flew off quickly. Before long the sun was beginning to set, and Keyleth handed Veth back to her mother with a gentle smile. Ves’salia glanced to her, raising a dark eyebrow as Keyleth nodded. 

“It’s time for me to go, love,” She said to Ves’siah.

Ves’siah merely nodded, looking back to her husband, who came forward to hold her hand. 

“Let us walk with you. Please,” She said, her dark eyes pleading. 

Keyleth sighed as Ves’salia moved to her side, wrapping her hand in hers. She said nothing, but her dark eyes held Keyleth securely. There was pain and acceptance on her face - understanding born of empathy. 

“Alright.” Keyleth said softly, Ves’salia leaning her head against her shoulder. 

They set out to the front gate, the doors opening with a soft creak. Keyleth gasped as she saw the Grey Hunt, lined along the main path, flags waving in the breeze. Joni cantered her horse up the path, and Keyleth could see the Raven on her shoulder. Beyond she saw the city - people lined the streets, oddly quiet as the masses waited patiently for -

“This is for me?” She asked Joni, the elf smiling sadly as the Raven left her shoulder, alighting on Keyleth’s with a nuzzle. 

“It is the least Whitestone can do.” Joni said quietly, pressing her hand to her heart and bowing her horse to Keyleth. 

Keyleth watched, breathless as Joni cantered to the end of the path, turning her horse to watch. Keyleth looked to the De Rolos, disbelief on her face. Ves’salia linked her arm as Ves’siah took the other, leaning her head on her shoulder and smiling as the Raven pecked at her hair. Keyleth heard the rest of the family gathering behind her, and grimaced as hot tears pricked at her eyes.

“Thank you,” She said simply, voice breaking. 

Ves’salia patted her hand, her own eyes shining as she looked across to her daughter and took the first step, the three women making their way to the Suntree as the De Rolo’s followed. The citizens of Whitestone were silent as they made their way to and through the streets. They watched as they passed, and Keyleth felt her chest clench at the soft weeping that cut through the silence. The Hunt bracketed them, the clopping of the hooves like the ticking of the clocktower as it loomed above them.

At last they came to the Suntree. Keyleth took a look around the crowd, smiling as she saw Dorena, clutching the sunflower and feather in her fist as she watched Keyleth with wide eyes. 

She looked to Ves’siah and Ves’salia, the two women releasing her. She drew them in her arms, and breathed them in, fighting tears as she pulled back, cupping their faces in each palm as Whitestone looked on. 

She could see the centuries in them - the sharp features that still remained, carried through generations. All of them had been babies in her arms, and almost all of them she had seen laid in the waiting stone. They looked at her with open love and admiration, and she felt her heart ache.

She had promised him that she would watch over the children. And she had - through generations, she had seen them from cradle to grave, her guidance and affection never wavering. 

“I have been so lucky. I love you all dearly. I  _ will _ see you again, my darlings,” She said softly, fighting a chuckle as the two women sniffled, their expressions eerily similar. 

She smiled, chest tight with love and pride. 

_ So many promises - and I have almost kept them all.  _

She gave their faces one last squeeze before she turned to the Suntree, placing her palm on the bark. 

“Hey Kiki,” It said, the cheerful voice subdued.

“Hey Suntree,” She whispered back, deeply aware of the thousands of eyes on her. 

“Time to go, huh?”

She smiled widely, feeling the Raven grip her shoulder over the Mantle. 

“It is. Thanks for everything, Suntree - I’ll miss you,”

She felt the boughs sway, the creak almost like a groan. 

“Thank you, Kiki. You saved my life,” It said softly, and she could feel the sadness through the link, the loss of its longest friend. 

Her longest friend, unchanging and understanding.

She smiled warmly, closing her eyes as she let the magic begin to grow, the portal coming to life once more. 

“You saved ours too, Suntree. Goodbye,” She said softly, hearing the De Rolo’s breath hitch behind her, the women beginning to cry. 

The tree creaked once more, a terrible groaning sound as the branches whipped and scratched against each other. The portal opened, and Keyleth gave one last look back to the De Rolo’s, giving them a warm smile as she passed through.

“Goodbye Kiki,” She heard, before the portal closed for the last time, the cool mountain air filling her lungs as she leaned on her staff, a sob ripping from her chest.

She stood against the tree for a moment before sinking to the forest floor. The smell of the fresh needles and spring wind filled her nostrils, and she closed her eyes, letting the late day sun press against her lids. She watched the sun set, her soft weeping covered in the cries of an owl. The cries of the Raven began to blend into the sound, and soon he alit before her. She smiled weakly as he hopped forward and settled into her lap.

“You’re like a goddamn cat, you know that?” She said weakly, leaning her head back against the bark. 

The Raven cooed, and she breathed in deeply for a few minutes, his soft weight comforting. 

“That was a lot, hunh.” She said into the darkness. 

The Raven adjusted his feathers, looking up at her. He cocked head, and she smiled wryly, resuming to scritch his throat.

“I will never have to bury a De Rolo, or a Shorthalt, or  _ anyone _ , ever again. But I won’t see a new birth. A baby. A wedding. I love them individually of course. But wrapping my head around the fact that I won’t...be here, in the same way. I have been saying them for so long but...goodbyes never get easier.”

The Raven was silent, but he pressed his head into her hand. She shook her head, bemused at the idea of someone walking across her. The Voice of the Tempest, weeping in the dark like a lost fawn. The thought sobered her a bit, and she collected herself, pushing off her staff to rise stiffly. She looked out into the forest dark, the wide boughs of the ancient trees taking most of the moonlight. 

Scattered through were pockets in the darkness. Pale beams of light, just coasting through the rare gaps of the boughs. The early pollen coated the air, painting the light in bright white as it reflected off spring’s coming. She gasped as the Raven flew ahead, his wings wider than any other raven of the earth. His glinting feathers caught and threw the moonlight across him, silent as he flew expertly though the boughs. He alit in the distance, perched on a large bough at the edge of the forest. 

She stood breathlessly as he watched her, remaining. She closed her eyes and let herself shift, taking flight. Her raven form was smaller, and she chucked a laugh in her throat as she perched beside him. He shook his feathers in surprise, shifting to the side of the branch and bowing before her. 

She nibbled at his neck, cawing low in her throat as he shook his head, cooing at her softly and extending a wing over her. He pulled her beside him, a deep hum in his throat. She closed her eyes, leaning into his warmth for a moment. He retracted his wing, hopping on the branch and nodding at her before leaping off, breaking the edge of the treeline and disappearing over the cliff in a roll. 

She followed, the cool night air pushing past her wings like a caress. She pulled her wings tight, slipping into a dive and relishing the roar of the wind against her, slipping through the air like a dagger. He pulled up and dove beside her, soundless in the night. They led each other that way for a few moments, pulling high into the air before tumbling and rolling through the vertical cliffs, mountain breezes buffeting them aloft. 

She let the motion soothe her, grief and weariness slipping away as they flew together. She pulled higher, coasting on an uplifted wind and looking down at him. He flew up to meet her, and she reaches out to grasp at his talons, folding her wings and falling. He follows, and they fall together for a few heart stopping moments. They cut through the thick mist that coated the valley floor, and Keyleth cawed before unlocking and pushing up, the Raven following immediately. 

She pushed through the mist, fighting the dew on her wings. She emerged through the cloud layer and made her way to the edge of the forest, perching on the same thick branch. He followed and settled beside her, flapping his feathers to dry them. She leaned into him as he nuzzled the top of her head. After a moment she nudged his side before taking wing. He followed as she made her way to her home, dropping her form in front of the door. 

He perched on her shoulder and followed her in, hopping onto the table. She walked to her room, taking off the mantle and circlet before setting down her bag. She sat on the bed, breathing in deeply as the exhaustion of the day filled her. Her muscles were warm and tired from the flying, the cold tang of the clouds still in her nostrils. The Raven followed and sat beside her, cooing as she ran a finger down the length of a wing. 

“Thank you. For the distraction. It was lovely,” She said softly. 

The Raven clucked in response, and she smiled as she tucked herself beneath the covers. The Raven nuzzled her neck as she laughed at the way it tickled. She swatted him weakly, smiling as he hopped up to the half open window. He tapped against the glass, and she waved a hand, her eyes falling closed. 

“Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow,” She murmured. 

The Raven gave a quick bark of agreement. The last thing she heard as she slipped into sleep was the rustle of his feathers as he took flight, her body and soul heavy against the mattress.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The days passed quickly. 

Time had become liquidlike as she grew older - slipping through her fingers almost faster than she could hold it. Cala and her friends had left a few days after she did for Whitestone. Staying in Vesrah, preparing for the trial. 

She met with Isilda the day after her arrival, knocking at her door in the early morning. Islida’s wife opened the door, her round face squinting in the dawn light. Keyleth smiled as she adjusted her shawl, the bright yellow yarn contrasted against her dark brown skin. Isilda had met her on a trip to Marquet - a hundred years ago, now. 

“Tempest,” She said, bowing her head in respect. 

“Good morning Aleh. I apologize for the interruption, but I need to speak with Isilda.” 

Aleh blinked sleepily before nodding, calling for her wife. Keyleth heard the unmistakable grumble of Isilda in the far bedroom. Aleh smiled apologetically, raising her dark brows as she brushed a loose lock of her dreads behind her pointed ear. 

“I will wait,” Keyleth said, giving Aleh a knowing grin. 

A few moments later Isilda emerged, wrapped in a soft robe. She adjusted her circlet, pushing it into her disheveled hair. She squinted at Keyleth with fond irritation.

“Good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Keyleth chuckled, leading her on a walk. 

“I merely wanted to see you and talk. As a friend, not the Tempest.” 

Isilda nodded, a curious expression in her eyes.

“Well,” She said with a smile, keeping her pace in silence. 

Keyleth walked without destination, enjoying the sight of her home after so long away. The forest was peaceful in the dawn, the early birdsong ringing in the tall boughs and scattered boulders.

“You have been by my side for so long. And I have always been grateful. I need you to know that. I did not deny anyone the Mantle because I did not think they were worthy - well, I  _ have _ . But I have never been truly ready, until now. I could not let go. The gods themselves had to intercede.” She said softly.

Isilda sighed beside her, glancing up at Keyleth with fond eyes.

“I never wanted the Mantle. I’ve told you that. It was never my call - I never felt it the way Cala does. And none of the others did either. You know that. Do not waste your heart on doubt, Keyleth. Everything happened as it was meant to. I will advise and serve Cala as I have advised and served you - that is what  _ I am called  _ to do. There must be a leader, yes - but there must be others. No one can walk alone, no matter how strong.”

Keyleth smiled softly, Isilda’s wisdom soothing. 

“And I am grateful. You have helped me lay the path for generations. Cala has you - and the others. I can leave with the knowledge that my people are cared for - and that is because of you, here. Thank you.” She responds, smiling as Isilda grins. 

“So sappy today, Keyleth,” Isilda chuckles, reaching out her arm to hook Keyleth’s elbow and looking to the sky with a sigh. 

“Thank  _ you. _ I have served happily by your side, and I will serve Cala the same. The work brings me joy, as it brought you. We will maintain the Council, and ensure that the knowledge and wisdom we have gained through the centuries will not be lost,” 

Isilda stopped, stepping in front of Keyleth. 

Her eyes were soft, and she reached forward to embrace Keyleth’s middle. They held each other, Keyleth swaying the smaller woman slightly. 

“Thank you all the same. I’ll miss you, Isi.” 

Isilda pulled away, a sad smile on her face. 

“And I you. Come on, let’s get some breakfast. I’m sure Aleh is cooking up something wonderful.”

The days slipped by, the wind growing warmer. The Raven sat with her as she gathered her house, packing away boxes and writing letter after letter. She labeled them all neatly, the long scrolls enchanted against damage and decay. One for everyone she could think of, a final gift to express her appreciation and love when she was gone. 

With each day her body began to ache a bit more. The village celebrated her birthday, thankfully making it a bit more subdued than the De Rolos and Shorthalts had orchestrated. After a small feast she had tottered, buzzed, back to her room, the Raven cooing happily on her shoulder. She was settling down to bed when a sending stone had begun to vibrate, Cala’s voice emitting from the stone. Keyleth felt her mind clear instantly, reaching for the stone and holding it to her ear. 

“I. Its done. Keyleth I - I’ll be home in two days, at noon I....thank you - “ 

Keyleth gasped, standing as she clutched the stone. She suddenly became very aware of the press of the antlers on her head, the weight of the Mantle behind her. The Raven looked at her and held her gaze, a wave of silence crashing over them. She felt the ache in her chest, the heavy pull of exhaustion on her eyes. Her fingers shook as she raised them to the antlers, running her fingers along them. 

“Two days…” She whispered, sitting weakly on the bed as the Raven ran his head along her hand soothingly. 

They passed in a blur as Keyleth prepared for her arrival - she contacted the Council immediately, and the excited village sprung into fevered preparation. The smell of roasting meat and incense began to fill the air the next morning, and Keyleth watched in a haze as banners and silks were strung from tree to tree. Lush garlands of bright, plump flowers and gleaming leaves began to bloom from her fellow druid’s hands, decorating the village in an explosion of lush color. 

Cala’s family worked feverishly, and Keyleth had held her mother a few times as she sobbed in her arms, patting the woman on the back. She remembered her mother with a warm smile - emerging from a tree like a miracle on a cool night. 

She had held her so tightly, running her hands over the Mantle that her daughter wore. She had wept with pride and awe as she held her, rocking her daughter back and forth in strong arms as they sank to the ground. Vilya’s presence had been such a balm, and her mother had become one of her closest friends in adulthood. There had been no one else who could understand the weight of the Mantle.

Until now. 

Before she knew it, she stood before the large tree that she used to transport through. Isilda and the council stood beside her, the rest of the village waiting with bated breath. Hung silks flapped softly in the breeze as they waited in silence, the Raven perched on Keyleth’s shoulder. The noon sun was bright in the dappled clearing, tender new flowers open to the sun. Her heart pounded in her throat, and she reeled from the nostalgia and awe that filled her as she waited -  _ eighteen hundred years. _

Keyleth took a deep breath, gripping the staff as the tree began to glow. Isilda gave her forearm a quick squeeze, and Keyleth nodded gratefully at the woman beside her. The Raven cooed in her ear, and she closed her eyes briefly, feeling the cool wind toss her hair, listening to the sharp result of the Mantle at her back. She opened her eyes once more as the portal emerged, and Cala's party with it.

Garuk came through first, a new scar wrapping down his arm, the python still coiled around his thick neck. Terence followed, his smirk replaced with a tired smile. Ben emerged, glancing behind him to Aniah, hand in hand. Aniah met Keyleth’s eyes and glanced at the Raven, giving them both a half bow before she glanced behind her. Eladriel followed, her mountain lion prowling beside her, chuffing as it saw Keyleth. 

They all parted as Cala emerged, her head held high as she stepped through, the glow of the spell painting her in light as it faded. 

Silence filled the clearing as Keyleth stepped forward, the warm wind picking up and tugging at her mantle. The rustling filled her ears as she stood before Cala, the young woman’s face filled with trembling determination. She bowed deeply before Keyleth, rising smoothly. There was a new glow in her dark eyes, and Keyleth recognized the set of her strong shoulders. 

“I have completed my final trial.” She announced, her voice clear and strong. 

A thrill of excitement ran through the village behind her, and Keyleth raised a hand to quell the shouts of joy and whispered exclamations. The voices quieted behind her, and for a moment the only sound was the rustle of the wind through the new spring leaves, her Mantle undulating gently. The Raven left her shoulder, looping the clearing in low circles. 

“You have. And you have done far more than that in your years - you have proven yourself worthy of the Mantle, and of the trust of your people,” Keyleth responded, her voice carrying magically through the clearing. 

She reached for Cala’s hand, placing the staff in her strong grip. She closed her eyes as she removed her circlet and placed it on Cala’s loose curls. She then unclasped her Mantle, swinging it from her shoulders and around Cala’s. She sighed and gave her a smile, inclining her head as she leaned forward to press their foreheads together. They breathed together for a moment before Keyleth pulled away, grinning at the awed expression on Cala’s face. 

“Hail, the Voice of the Tempest!” She cries, her voice echoing off of the trees and granite boulders that surrounded the clearing. 

Cala’s breath hitches as the village responded, shouts of joy and celebration echoing as Cala’s parents come forward, holding their daughter as the rest of her party falls on her. Eladriel pressed a kiss to her temple as Cala stared blankly at Keyleth. Aniah stood still at her side, eyes darting from Cala to Keyleth with a concerned brow. 

Cala broke away, wrapping her arms around Keyleth and holding her tightly as the village watched. She held onto Cala, feeling the breeze on her bare shoulders, tossing her unbound hair. Cala whispered in her ear, voice rough and breaking. 

“I’ve imagined this for so long, thank you, thank you,” She chokes out as Keyleth ran a hand up and down her back, feeling the brush of the Mantle.

She steps away, taking in the sight - Cala, young and strong, draped in the Mantle and crowned with the circlet, her hands gripping Keyleth’s staff. 

“You did all the work, love. You’re going to be amazing.” Keyleth whispers, smiling as Cala looks down at the Mantle, her face still stunned.

“Now, address your people, Tempest.” She says softly, fighting a laugh at the brief panic that crosses Cala’s tear streaked face. 

Eladriel comes forward, giving her hand a squeeze and pressing a kiss to her cheek before stepping back, taking Cala’s old staff for her. Aniah comes close, whispering quickly in her ear before stepping away. Cala grabs her wrist as she leaves, and the two young women embrace quickly, Cala whispering fervently in Aniah’s ear before she lets her step away. 

Keyleth moves away, and all eyes move to Cala. She looked at the staff, and reached up a hand to trace the antlers. She looked to her friends and family around her, and back to Keyleth. She drew her courage, clearing her throat.

“I could not be here without all of you,” She started, her voice growing stronger as she spoke.

“We stand at the dawn of a new era, but we only stand here because of the leadership and strength of Keyleth and those long gone. Today is not for me, but for those that have gone before and sacrificed so much to defend our people, and all of the people of this world. Let us celebrate our past, and look to the future,” She raised the staff high, the light of the crystal illuminating her triumphant face. 

“Hail the Tempest!” She cried, her eyes alight as her eyes met Keyleth’s. 

“Hail the Tempest!” The village responded fiercely. 

Keyleth felt a sudden ache in her chest as the voices of her people surrounded her. The Raven landed on her shoulder once more, fluffing his wings in excitement. 

Cala raised her hand, and the village quieted. 

“Oh she’s so much better than I was,” Keyleth whispered, wincing at the peck that the Raven gave her neck. 

“Let us celebrate! Tonight we feast and remember, and tomorrow we continue the work of our ancestors,” Cala says, reaching her free hand behind her. 

Elerina took it, her face soft with devotion and awe. Keyleth felt a familiar twinge as she watched them make their way to the center of the village, the people following in their wake. Keyleth stood still as she watched, feeling strangely light as the sun played across her skin. 

The Raven nibbled at her ear and cooed, and she looked to her side to see Aniah. Ben looked at her with concern, but she gave him a quick kiss, gently patting his shoulders in the direction of the crowd. He left her reluctantly, glancing back as she made her way to Keyleth. 

“And Hail, the soon Champion of the Raven Queen,” Keyleth said softly. 

Aniah smiled shyly, and Keyleth noticed a familiar dagger at her side. 

“I wanted to thank you once more. I have more hope now than I have ever thought possible...thank you.” She says simply.

Keyleth watches as her eyes flit from hers to the Raven, the two sharing a moment. 

“Thank you, from both of us. I know you will both do great things,” Keyleth says softly. 

Aniah regarded them, and Keyleth knew she was summoning her courage. 

“What now, Tempest?” She asked, glancing back to the crowd, a massive bonfire now burning merrily in the center of the village. 

Keyleth follows her gaze, stroking the Raven’s wing habitually. 

“We both know what happens now, Aniah.” She responded, her voice soft. 

Aniah’s jaw clenched, the tendons prominent under her skin. 

“When?” 

Keyleth sighed as she listened to the sound of music emanating from the village, the warm laughter and conversation that played like a melody under the strumming of Ben’s guitar.

“Can I tell you the truth? Will you tell Cala?” She said quietly as she watched the village.

Garuk arm wrestled one of the warriors, the python hissing angrily at his opponent. Terrence was deftly carrying two dozen pints in his nimble fingers, passing them around. Eladriel and her lion trailed Cala as she made her way through the village, shaking hands and kissing babies. Ben had recruited a few fellow musicians, and Keyleth saw Aniah smile as he swayed to the music, children hanging happily on his legs. 

“I will hold my tongue if you desire it,” Aniah said simply, her grey eyes soft as they flitted from Ben to Keyleth. 

“I do desire that,” Keyleth said, watching as Garuk deftly dispatched his opponent, earning him a round of cheers and proffered ale. 

“I will be here tonight, for Cala. For you all,” She whispers, fearing that the sound will be carried into the wind. 

She lets her mind wander, heart reeling as she gathered her words. The air in her lungs was cold and tight, and her joints ached as she looked to the village. Sorrow pressed on her shoulders, heavy and cold, and she smiled weakly as she took a deep breath. 

“But in the morning I will go to the cliffs. I don’t...I don’t know what will happen. But I will go. Time is pressing me like a vice - I feel I have little choice. My time is spent." 

Her confession fell like spilled stones, and Keyleth sighed as the weight left her heart. She had admitted it at last, at last been allowed to say it was the end. For almost two thousand years, death had been a forever, a someday, a never ending ‘soon’. She stilled at the scope of it, painfully aware that every breath was numbered, a clock more intricate than Percy ever dreamed winding down at last. Her heart ached as she watched Aniah flinch at her confession.

_ She is so damn young. Was I like this? Was he?  _

Aniah’s eyes turned hard as her smile fell away. She crossed her wiry arms as she watched the village, her expression steely. Keyleth could see the tightness as she rolled her shoulders, her breathing harsh as she collected herself. 

“The end of an era,” Aniah murmured. 

“That is true. But it is also a beginning. A beginning for me as well,” She said.

She glanced at the young woman and smiled as she caught her eye. 

“You know more of death than most. Do not mourn for me, Champion. I am ready.” 

Aniah’s expression was blank as she looked back to the village, sparks flying high into the air from the growing bonfire. Keyleth watched as curiosity crept across her face, the young woman pursing her lips before speaking once more.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, and Keyleth laughed, the sound like a cough in her chest. 

“I am. I have not seen most of my family, have not seen  _ him _ in over a  _ thousand _ years. For so long, the thought of seeing them again has been a salve to my soul. Sometimes it was the only thing that could get me out of bed. Now it is so close, and it is...well, the only thing I can compare it to is my Aramente. Joyous, and terrifying, and…”

She trailed off, watching with pride as Cala transformed into a dragon, swatting playfully at squealing children. Keyleth watched as Ben looked back to them, giving a respectful nod to Keyleth and a soft, knowing smile to Aniah. 

Aniah’s expression softened as he looked back to the dragon, yelling something about his guitar as Cala swiped at his feet, a plume of smoke puffing from her nostrils as he jumped in the air to avoid her claws. 

“I should join them. Are you coming?” She said, looking at Keyleth with hopeful eyes. 

Keyleth smiled as she watched Cala begin to give rides to the children, their parents watching with nervous eyes. The dragon’s roar filled the air, triumphant and powerful. Memories pulled at the back of her mind. The children of Vesrah clutching her back as Vax watched on the shore, freshly revived and dumbstruck with affection, long hair still damp from  _ drowning.  _

“Let it never be said that I ever turned down a good party,” Keyleth said wryly, shaking her bare shoulders as Aniah chuckled.

They made their way to the village, greeted with cheers and proffered ale and food. Keyleth watched from a table as Cala made her way back, before the young woman joined her. Her cheeks were flushed as she sat beside Keyleth, adjusting the circlet. Keyleth smiled as she reached out and straightened the antlers.

“You do not have to wear them, Cala. I just wanted you to have them.” 

Cala’s eyes grew wide and her hands flew from the circlet to wave them in front of herself. 

“No, they’re wonderful! They’re magical aren’t they?”

Keyleth nodded as she watched Cala trace the Mantle absently, a sheen of sweat across her forehead. 

“They are. They boost your words and your wisdom - though you need little help for those.” 

Cala shook her head with a broad grin, glancing over to Aniah and Ben as they danced to a jig, Aniah’s head thrown back in a laugh as Ben whispered something in her ear. Keyleth shook her head and smiled as Ben wrapped a wide hand at the small of her back and spun her, Aniah catching herself with light feet, grin bright and open. 

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” 

Keyleth hummed, taking a long draft of ale. 

“Good. Stay humble, it will help.” 

Cala nodded, her bright smile fading slightly as she watched Keyleth. 

“Keyleth?” 

She set down her drink, feeling the shift in Cala’s mood. She heard a caw in the distance, and wondered how far he had gone - or if he had gone far at all. 

“Yes, Cala.”

Cala looked to the ground, nervousness in her eyes before she looked back to Keyleth.

“Do you remember what I asked you? A few months ago?” 

Keyleth sighed, finishing her ale and setting it back down with a thump. 

“I do. I kept my promises, Cala. But I can’t make any more.” She said softly, holding Cala’s eyes for a moment before looking back out to the village.

She heard Cala take a deep breath beside her, before she reached her hand forward and took Keyleth’s. 

“I understand. I don’t think I did, before. But watching Annie and...and talking with you, it has helped me see. I will miss you, but I am happy for you. I guess...I just wanted to say thank you. And that I love you, and no matter how long we have left I want you to know.” Cala said softly, her supple brown skin warm against Keyleth’s.

Keyleth gave her a weak smile, meeting her warm dark eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Cala. I love you too. It has been my pleasure watching you grow, and I only hope I have done better than those before me.” Keyleth responded, squeezing her hand. 

Cala smiled once more, her eyes sparkling. 

“I think you have done far more. And I will work to do the same.”

Keyleth reached forward and patted her cheek, laughing as Cala giggled like a child. 

“I know you will. Now go on, enjoy your party! Perhaps later we can show them a few tricks,” Keyleth said with a wink, patting her shoulder and rising to get more ale. 

Cala watched her rise with a pensive expression, and followed shortly before Garuk grabbed her and spun her into a clumsy dance, Ben having somehow acquired an accordion that he played with similar haphazard enthusiasm. 

Keyleth wove through the crowd as the blue sky bruised and turned to lilac before spilling into scarlet. She watched the sunset with Aniah, the women sitting in silence as their skin was painted in pink and red as the sun burned behind the mountains. Keyleth watched the colors bleed into each other, her mind far away as she tried to take it in. The knowledge that this could be her last sunset was impossible to wrap her mind around, even as exhaustion pressed on her. 

The sky at last turned to a plush dark velvet, stars blinking through like holes slashed in a cloak. Aniah stirred beside her as the Raven emerged from the trees, settling on the arm of her chair. The party carried on behind them as the little ones grew tired and the adults began to uncask drinks, and Keyleth could smell hookah and hear happy shouting carrying through the trees. She shivered as the cool night air blew across her bare shoulders. Aniah untied her large grey shawl and tied it around Keyleth expertly - the material surprisingly warm. 

“Thank you, Aniah.”

She merely nodded, looking out into the mist filled valley. Keyleth felt exhaustion pulling at her, and the cool air was tight in her lungs. Her body was aching, shoulders hunched and hands cold and clenched under the warmth of the shawl. The Raven sensed it, pressing against her neck and clucking slowly. Aniah noticed and smiled, her eyes reflective in the bright moonlight. 

“I’ll cover for you, Keyleth. I must confess I am not thoroughly fond of parties myself,”

Keyleth chuckled, the sound catching in her chest as she couched and leaned back into her chair, pulling Aniah’s shawl around her and marvelling at the radiating heat that came from the cloth. Enchanted, for a high price she imagined. 

“I’ve always loved a party, but I am  _ exhausted _ . I think I’ll take you up on your offer, child,” She said wearily. 

She reached instinctively for her staff, letting her head fall in frustration when it was not there. Aniah watched and rose to her feet, helping Keyleth stand and linking her arm. Keyleth didn’t protest, her body too tired to defend her pride. They made their way to Keyleth’s home, and Aniah removed her arm. Keyleth handed her the shawl, Aniah taking it with a pensive expression, watching as Keyleth leaned in the doorway. 

“Thank you, Aniah. I daresay I will see you tomorrow.”

Aniah raised her eyebrows but quickly tamped down her expression. She stepped back and inclined her head to both of them, the Raven cooing softly on Keyleth’s shoulder. 

“It is my pleasure. Tomorrow, Tempest, Champion,” She said respectfully, turning from the door as Keyleth let it fall shut. 

She ran a hand through her hair as she looked around the home. The Raven hopped to the kitchen table, making soft, concerned sounds. Keyleth took a few deep breaths as she looked around her home, petting him absently. There was nothing left to do - every letter was written, every parcel wrapped with utmost care. Tears rolled down her face as she looked for the last time, running her hand along the countertop, the stained glass window, the rough cloth of a towel. 

“Come on, love. Let’s go to bed,” She said softly, laughing as her voice broke. 

She slowly made her way to the bed, the Raven settling on the pillow beside her. She reached out a hand, smiling as he laid his head upon it. Sleep found her quickly, and the Raven waited until long after her wrinkled face had grown slack to hop to the window, looking back once more before taking flight. 

In the distance Aniah watched from the bonfire as the Raven came close. He flew in low circles above her before letting out three sharp caws, the sound raw with grief and joy. She smiled as she watched him climb into the sky and out of sight, a hand on the dagger that she had found on her pillow the night before, the skull cool against her throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love ya'll so much. 
> 
> Chapter 11! One chapter left!!! I'M COMIN' FOR UR DUCTS BABES.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, I appreciate it so much. Every email is another drop of serotonin that my Prozac can only dream of. 
> 
> SEE YOU THURSDAY :D


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, you have made this such a fun and rewarding experience. Please stay tuned for more! They live in my head Rent Free. 
> 
> I am so happy to finally send Kiki and Vax home. This was so soothing to write, as something to imagine in cannon. It was so painful, but so beautiful. CR Invented Romance. 
> 
> A R T ! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos always desperately appreciated <3
> 
> Again, @danicarr I love you and I'm sorry

She wakes in her bed, darkness greeting her. 

She gasps against the pain, every muscle in her body aching. She sits up slowly, glancing through the open window. The world is draped in deep violet, her home cool in the pre dawn. A voice echoes around her, low and female, familiar and otherworldly.

_ Rise, Tempest. They will wake soon. _

She takes a deep breath, looking around her bedroom.  _ For the last time, _ her own voice whispers, and she fights the tears that threaten and she rises shakily to her feet, grinding her teeth against the pain as she shuffles forward, placing a hand on Percy’s empty mannequin before letting it fall. She wraps a long robe around herself, forcing her body forward, wrenching her gaze from her home as she opens the door and walks, bare feet damp in the soft grass. 

She tries to push thought from her mind as her heart begins to hammer in her chest, raw anticipation and nervousness filling her for the first time in centuries. Her hands shake as she strides forward, muscles screaming in pain. Memories begin to come unbidden as she walks, falling like stones. 

The bright flash of Scanlan’s smile, his face scrunched in joy as he held his and Pike’s first child. Grog, throwing little De Rolos around like ragdolls as they squealed in delight, swinging from his arms to the boughs of the Suntree. Pike, glowing and strong as she led her churches, hand in hand with Scanlan. Percy, looking out over his city with pride as he held Vesper sleeping in his arms. Vex, brilliant and beautiful, cuddled with Keyleth in the grass as the bright sun warmed their skin. 

And Vax. 

Vax, whose name she could still barely say. Gentle hands removing her bloodstained armour, holding her shaking body tightly. Pressing his lips to hers under the Suntree, so long ago, so  _ long _ . Flying through Vesrah, feathers soft and strong, his knowing grin sending sparks down her spine. Running his long fingers through her fire shorn air, touch cool and tender against her skin. His embrace at the wedding, his form strange and new, but still him, still helplessly in love with her. His eyes, looking at her and seeing, knowing every inch and crack and loving her, deeply, recklessly. A promise that he did not want her to make, but a promise all the same.

“Forever. And ever and always,” She says with a laugh, stopping to catch her breath as she reaches her destination. 

The cliffs of Zephrah drop before her, lazy clouds filling the valley. She stood straight, watching as the purple dawn began to bleed red and pink, a sliver of sun casting amber rays of light through the jagged peaks. The wind tosses her hair and robes as she watches the sun rise, her breath heaving in aching lungs. There is no birdsong, she realizes - only the howl of the wind against the stone.

She hears a loud caw, and turns to see the Raven behind her. She smiles at him against the pain, raising a shaking arm for him to perch. He lands softly, his eyes on hers. A gasp leaves her as her breath hitches, a small sob escaping her. She pulls him close, pressing her face into his wing and breathing in his smell, sky and leather and…

“Vax,” She whispers, the Raven cooing in her ear. She closes her eyes, grimacing as she pressed her face into him. 

“Vax, I’m ready,” She whispers, her body shaking in pain. 

The Raven -  _ Vax _ , makes a sound like keening, and takes off, flying around her in three low circles before disappearing off the cliff. Keyleth rushes forward, watching him vanish into the clouds.

He emerges before her, immense black wings splitting the clouds as he appears, breathless and pale - unchanged. Her breath leaves her, and she feels her jaw slacken as her heart pounds in her ears and maybe this is how it happens, maybe her heart just stops at the sight of him.

But she takes another aching breath, and he alights before her, eyes searching her face. The sun rises behind his form, casting her in shadow as she stands before him. His wings still outstretched, he watches her with wide eyes, reaching out a hand. She walks forward on shaking legs, taking his cold hand and rising the other to touch the bony growth that protrude from his armoured flesh. He watches her, rapt, eyes roving her face. 

“Hello, love,” He says, voice rough and strange, and she sobs at last, falling against him and reaching to grip his head, threading her fingers through his long, loose hair and gripping tightly, leaning back to look at him greedily. She holds him there, taking him in. The sharp line of his jaw, the long tendons that flow through his neck. His strange eyes, pale and bright, huge as they watch her, body slack in her weak grip. 

She pulls him close, their faces inches apart, before pressing her lips to his, pulling at his scalp as his hands run up her back, cupping her face tenderly she deepens her kiss, pulling him closer before breaking away. She opens her eyes, breath heaving. He is gasping, hands trembling as he holds her face, pupils blown wide. She loosens her grip, running a hand through his hair as the other traces down his arm.

“Kiki,” He says breathlessly, and she laughs, tears falling from her eyes. 

“Kiki,  _ Kiki _ , gods you used to call me Kiki,” She breathes, pressing another kiss to his lips before leaning her forehead against his. 

He catches his breath, chuckling as he holds her. He whispers in her ear, lips cool against her. 

“I love you Kiki. I love you more than I can say. I’m so sorry for...for all of it.” He says, and she grins, peppering his face with kisses. 

“It's okay, it's  _ okay _ . I love you, I miss you, I…” She trails off, watching his face. She cups his cheek, thumb trailing along his cold skin. 

She looks to his arm, running a hand along the growth. 

“My antlers...I realized after the wedding.” She says softly. He closes his eyes as she touches them, before looking behind her, smiling at something.

She hears a sudden snap behind her, turning in his arms. Aniah steps out of the trees, pale grey skin glowing in the half-risen sun. Vax inclines his head, and Keyleth watches as Aniah grips the raven skull at her throat.

“Greetings, Aniah Theyless, Champion of the Raven Queen.” Vax murmurs, a sly grin on his lips.

Aniah smiles, bowing towards him.

“Not quite yet,” She responds. 

Keyleth wipes at her eyes and starts towards Aniah, stopping as Vax holds out a hand. He glances at her, a smile on his mouth and a knowing look in his eyes. 

She watches as a shadow blooms behind her, turning to see the immense form of the Raven Queen rising, filling the sky. They regard each other for a moment, and Keyleth gives her a grudging nod of respect. The Raven Queen raises her mask, a bemused smile beneath. 

“Greetings, Tempest,” She says, her voice echoing across the quiet cliffs. 

“Do not fear,” She says, her form shrinking to that of a woman, the shadow still enveloping the sky behind her. 

She walks past Keyleth, a cool breeze emanating from her like the air of a cave. Aniah watches, rapt as the Matron comes closer, before standing before her. 

“You have proven yourself worthy, child - many times. Will you hold my oaths true? For my aid, for my service, will you devote yourself to my causes and my creed?” The Queen says, her soft words swirling around them. 

Aniah holds her red gaze for a moment before bowing her head, a hand over her heart.

“I swear it,” Anaih said, her voice even and strong. 

The Raven Queen placed a hand on her brow, a wave of power flowing from her. 

“I name you Champion of the Raven Queen, Aniah Riador Theylless.” The Queen says slowly, a lock turning.

The Raven Queen smiled, turning to Vax. She stood before him, her expression wistful. Keyleth felt a shiver down her spine as she ran her fingers down the crown of his head, along his jaw and shoulder. Keyleth could not deny the love that she saw on the goddesses face. There was possession, fierce and deep, but the love seemed to win out as she looked between the two of them, eyes wise and sorrowful. 

Keyleth wondered again who the woman had been, that had become the goddess.

“Vax’ildan Vessar,” She says gently, her mouth turned in a sad smile, a hand over his heart.

“Champion of the Raven Queen,” She whispers, her voice like the falling of dirt on a coffin, like the last rattling breath of an old woman. 

“I release you from my service. Go forth, and rest,” She says, floating forward to press a kiss to his forehead. 

Keyleth watches a dark bruise travel down his face, coloring his skin as he sinks in pain. Keyleth rushed forward, falling to her knees beside him. The Matron smiles down at them, glancing behind to Aniah, who watched with shock. 

Keyleth grabbed his face, pulling him to her and watching as the bruise faded, his skin turning bronze and warm under her hands. He pants in her grip and she watches as the growth in his arm begins to crumble away, the dust carried in the wind. 

He opens dark brown eyes, and she laughs as he presses a kiss to her lips, his mouth warm and soft now under her. She breaks away and looks behind them to see the Matron smiling at them as she makes her way to the edge of the cliff. 

“Come when you both are ready. You know the way,” She says, and Vax gives her a nod as he sags in Keyleth’s arms. 

The Matron gives one last look at Aniah, who stands straight at her gaze. She lowers her mask once more, the shadows beginning to ebb from the sky. 

“Hail, Champion of the Raven Queen,” She whispers, the sound like a snake belly over stone. 

She disappears in a swirl of feathers, one large one floating to the earth. The shadow dissolves, and Keyleth gasps as the sun breaks fully into the valley, drenching them in warm gold. Aniah walks towards the edge, taking the feather and holding it to the light. She looks down to the both of them, and a smile breaks over her face as she looks back to the feather, turning it in her hands.

“It's always someone’s turn,” She says softly, tucking the feather beside her dagger. 

Vax squeezes Keyleth’s hands as he rises to his feet, clapping a hand onto Aniah ‘s shoulder. 

“It is. But your story is not mine,” He says and his voice is his -  _ Vax _ once more, young and lilting, his eyes growing soft as he helps Keyleth to her feet, wrapping her arms around him. 

“You will do great things, Aniah.” He says, and Keyleth shivers at his voice, so familiar and so longed for. 

Aniah blushes, looking down at the waving grass. She looks at the two of them, eyes damp as she stifles a sniffle. 

“Thank you, both of you. I’ll make you proud,” She says, lifting her chin, eyes fierce. 

Vax wraps an arm around Keyleth, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“You already have,” Vax says gently. 

Aniah’s face drops, and she cries at last, nodding fiercely as she bites her lip hard. Aniah looks for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and turning on her heel, running back to the dark trees. They watch her go before turning to each other once more. Keyleth runs her hands along his face, savoring the warmth, the feel of his smooth skin.

“What happens now?” She asks softly.

She watches his face twist out of his peaceful expression. He watches her with anxiety, his handsome face nervous. 

“Should I jump off the cliff?” She asks deadpan, rewarded with his shocked laughter. 

“Gods Kiki, no.” He chokes out, wrapping her in a tight hug. 

His smile fades and he takes her hands in his, turning and exploring her skin. 

“You’re still so beautiful,” He murmurs, kissing her bony hands. 

She waits, savoring his presence as he sighs. 

“They were all so hard, but this is the one...I have dreaded and longed for this. To hold you again. To be with you on the same plane. To be  _ free _ . But to sever your life - it still feels wrong,” He says bitterly.

She takes his head in her hands once more, the silken locks sliding through her knobbed fingers.

“You are not killing me, Vax’ildan. You are saving me,” She says, pressing a kiss to his lips, and holding him close, the sweetness of his breath as intoxicating as Sandkeg’s Hide.

“You called me your home, remember? You are my home too, Vax. Zephrah was my responsibility, my birthplace. I have loved it, and served it well. But you...your soul is my  _ home _ ,” She says fiercely, grabbing his face and pressing a deep kiss to his mouth, spine arching as his hands wrap around her. 

They pull away, and Keyleth’s heart is in her ears, and it hurts it, hurts, it _ hurts _ .

_ “Take me home, Vax’ildan.”  _ She whispers fiercely, feeling him shiver in her arms. 

He sighs roughly, holding her face in his hands and looking at her deeply, like he is trying to soak in every detail. He nods and steps away, and she squeals as he picks her up bridal style, gently lowering her to the ground and lying down beside her. The grass is soft and cool against her skin, and the rising sun warms her beneath her thin robes. 

He reaches out and presses a palm to her shallow cheek, and she closes her eyes as he starts to play with her hair. Her muscles ache, and she is so  _ tired _ , tired from the crying, from the day, from the endless goodbyes, from the centuries of waking and drinking coffee alone in the cold dawn. She forces her eyes back open, desperate to see his face. Her chest hurts from the hammering of her heart and the ache in her bones is almost unbearable, ancient joints grinding as she moves. He strokes her face and hair, watching with pained eyes as she grimaces in pain. 

“Is this it?” She asks, her voice rattling, like Percy had rattled, like Kaylie, like Zarah.

Vax smiles sadly, nodding as he brushes through her long white hair with his fingers. 

“It is. I’m sorry my love,” He whispers, his handsome face pinched with worry

“Don’t be,” She responds, her breath growing shallow. 

His face twists, his warm palm cupping her cheek. 

“I’m not going anywhere darling. I’ll be right here,” He says, his grip tight on her face. 

“You...better be. I had to do so much  _ work _ . Why does the Matron have to be so... _ Her _ .” She manages, ignoring the shushing sounds Vax makes as he fights a hysterical chuckle.

Her body feels so heavy, like she's weighted down with rocks. Her lungs are so _ tight,  _ and she works to get air as her eyes squint in pain. He cuddles closer, pressing his lean form to hers. 

“Kiki, it’s okay, “ He whispers, his low voice like an anchor.

She is so scared it's all a dream, that she will wake and he will be gone and it will be another day, with coffee by the window and a stream of letters from her dead friend’s children, with nothing to dull her loneliness but the touch of a silent Raven. She clings desperately to consciousness even as her lungs grow painful, darkness tugging at her eyes. 

“Kiki, you can let go. You did it, Keyleth. Cala bears the Mantle and Staff with pride. Aniah bears Whisper, and the blessing of the Matron. They will defend this place with their lives, as you have. You have suffered more than anymore I know, and you have succeeded where others failed,” His voice is so close, and so far away.

She is being pulled down, into the earth, the years pressing her like a vice. She forces her eyes open one last time, her breath a hollow rattle as she takes him in, feels the press on the sun on her skin. 

“I love you,” She says simply, her mouth dry, a hacking cough escaping her chest. 

Vax wraps his arms around her, his touch warm and encompassing. 

“I love you, Keyleth of the Air Ashari,” He whispers, placing a kiss to her lips as another ragged breath escapes her. 

Her eyes are too heavy now, and they fall shut against her will. She takes another breath, whimpering against the pain as her chest contracts. She grips at him, taking another breath as the tightness in her chest eases. She sags in his arms, exhaling deeply. She opens her eyes, smiling at Vax. His eyes are open, expression tight. She reaches up to touch his face, and his eyes grow wide, mouth falling open. 

She grins, sitting up to look at him, and she feels....light. Lighter than she’s felt in years. Vax rises with her, his expression slack as he gently pulls her to her feet, rising effortlessly. She reaches for him, running a hand down his face. As she does, she grows still in shock - her hands had become bony, knobbed joints that ached when it rained, liver spots mingling with the freckles that dotted her pale skin. 

Her hands were smooth, the flesh supple and strong. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs easily as he watched her, tears spilling from his eyes as he reached forward and picked her up, spinning her in a circle and dipping her in a kiss. She squeals with laughter, throwing her head back as he breaks their kiss, holding her in a dip before pulling her back up. 

She turns, steeling herself for the sight. She has seen so many dead bodies, old, young, mangled or whole. But the sight of her own, her thin limbs curled, her long white hair tossed in the morning breeze...she crouches before it, ghosting a hand over her face. Deep lines greet her, and Keyleth can see the hardship sketched across her skin. 

But there is a smile on her dead face, and an indention in the grass beside her. 

Vax reaches and embraces her from behind, pressing kisses into her side as she stands.

“I got so old,” she murmurs, looking at the body. Vax holds her tightly, nodding against her back. 

“You did. But you’re free now,” He says, stepping to stand beside her. 

She takes a deep breath, glancing to Vax, his touch warm, his voice even and strong - the bones that had marred his form gone in the Zephrah winds. 

“So are you,” She says softly, watching as his shoulders sag.

His head snaps up, and he grips her waist as Aniah emerges from the treeline, clutching Cala’s hand. The young druid bursts into tears as she sees the body, and Keyleth watches as Aniah meets her eye, giving her a silent nod as she comforts Cala, whispering something in her ear as she takes her shoulders and turns her away, the Mantle rustling softly behind her. She watches them vanish into the woods, likely to bring the rest of the village. Keyleth wonders dully if they will bury her or burn her. 

Vax steps in front of her vision, giving her a quick kiss, and Keyleth leans into him, hungry and grabbing. He laughs, parting them and grinning as she pouts, pressing his palms to her face. 

She doesn’t care what they do with her body, she decides. 

Her soul is free from it at last. 

“It's time to go, love,” He whispers, and she watches breathless as his wings sprout once more.

She runs a hand down the soft expanse, just as beautiful as she remembered. She nods in his grasp, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him. She takes a moment - looking around her, at Cala and Aniah, holding each other in the trees, at Zephrah in the distance, the lights and fires alighting for the day, at the sun streaming through the mountains of her home. 

Not home. Not anymore.

She gave him a grin, pecking him on the cheek and snuggling into his chest, closing her eyes as she breathed him in. __

_ Sky, leather, clean hair. _

_ Vax. _

“I’m ready,” She whispered, his arms contracting around her. 

She laughed as he squeezed her tight, picking her up and running off the cliff, letting them before fall catching them, his wings pushing higher and higher until she could see nothing but the expanse of deepest blue and his bright smile, her heavy heart growing lighter with each beat of his wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to "I Don't Know How to Stop"
> 
> I wanted a Keyleth focused fic that really explored who she would become after so long, and how leaving would be bittersweet. I also love writing death and afterlife exploration, which will surprise No One who reads my other work. And Vaxleth makes me want to ugly cry, so I had to self-soothe like a baby with a goddamn binkie.
> 
> To celebrate Talks returning (and BOY DO I NEED TALKS BACK YA'LL) I give you my fic! 
> 
> New chapters every Tuesday and Thursday! I am slowly making playlists, which I am VERY PROUD OF, which will be listed below. 
> 
> Playlist for Aniah: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QivzbIHmnWbzIVsv1j1sL?si=bDdv-VQ5Rj6kBI9AcAMQKg
> 
> Playlist for Ben: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pVLWGeFzhYTMhpSWUVDfK?si=BhBPMmotR7CKXXFk6tWO7w
> 
> Bully me @criticalrollover on the tumbles if ye wish
> 
> PS: @danicarr if you're reading this I love you and I'm sorry.


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